


Trading Crowns - What Really Happened between Yuzuru and Javier in Helsinki

by yellingbaek



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2017 World Figure Skating Championships, Angst, Angst and Feels, Gay, M/M, Memories, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Realistic, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, except no miki ando sorry miki we can't make javi an adulterer, yuzuvier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellingbaek/pseuds/yellingbaek
Summary: In which Yuzuru Hanyu and Javier Fernandez deal with personal problems and their feelings for one another while fighting for gold at the World Championships in Helsinki.





	1. Sleepless Flight to Helsinki

Yuzuru Hanyu remembers the first time he was in Helsinki, Finland. Finlandia Trophy, 2012. It had been the beginning of a season of many firsts. First quad salchow landed in competition, right there in Helsinki. First world record in the short program, at Skate America. Then, later, second world record at the NHK Trophy a few weeks later as he topped off the previous one by a few tenths of a point. First Grand Prix Final title, a then-not-too-shabby silver. It had been his first season under the guidance of coach Brian Orser. 

The season he became rinkmates with a certain Spanish skater called Javier Fernandez.

This is what Yuzuru is thinking about on the plane ride. He’s Helsinki-bound, once again, this time for the 2017 World Championships. It’s kind of big deal, but going into this kind of competition is natural as breathing for Yuzuru at this point. Still, familiarity doesn’t silence the intrusive anxieties churning in his gut. He has music blasting in through his favourite pair of earbuds, but he isn’t really listening. There’s too much in his head.

A lot has changed since he won the 2012 Finlandia Trophy. World records, major titles, fame, recognition, new people, new friendships. New… relationships. 

He shakes his head slightly. Best not to think about that right now. 

Instead, his mind chooses to fixate on one other thing. That goddamned quad salchow. 

He’d landed it successfully (albeit with difficulty) for the first time ever in Helsinki five years ago, but this season, the quad-sal-triple-toe combination has been throwing him off at alarmingly high rates. Memories of pops, hands down, and straight up falls from both his short and free programs this season flash by in his mind’s eye. 

Yuzuru winces and changes the song on his ipod to something even noisier, hoping the music will drown out his worries.

It doesn’t.

Instead, the new song brings yet another memory. Last year, heading to Boston for the World Championships. It had been a flight like this one, but Yuzuru had sat with Javier the whole way. He had made Javi listen to this exact song. Javi hadn’t liked it, Yuzuru could tell, but he had sure been good at pretending for Yuzuru’s sake. After the song ended, they’d talked for hours about nothing in particular, before settling into comfortable silence for the rest of the flight. Yuzuru missed it- missed Javi- more than he cared to admit. They had been closer, back then. It had been a different time. Yuzu had been fresh off his new world records from GPF, both emboldened and scared for it. He had also been injured. 

And ultimately, he had lost the World Championship gold to none other than Javier.

No more of that.

This year, it’s different. He’s healthy. Hasn’t broken any records yet in the season. Yuzuru knows it sounded semi-ridiculous, but he won’t be satisfied until he's broken the world records again, and bested his past self. Helsinki is his last chance to do that. To show the world who's still on top. To reclaim his crown.

His mom is fast asleep beside him, and he envies her. He’s always been a light sleeper and long plane rides are hell because of it. And this time around, Javi’s not here to make the hours tick by faster. Turning off his music altogether, Yuzuru closes the window beside him and leans back in his seat. He needs to rest. He needs to be in tip-top condition if he wants to take back the gold. 

But sleep evades him. Before the landing in Helsinki, all Yuzu can think about is Javier Fernandez, the past two World Championships, his cursed quad-sal-triple-toe, and every other mistake he’s ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohohoho soooo there's that!! I sincerely hope you liked it!!
> 
> To be honest, I'm still figuring out how this whole ao3 thing works with all the tags and chapter breaks and posting in segments, so I hope i haven't messed this up and accidentally disabled myself from adding more chapters lol.
> 
> Anywho, what did you guys think? Any kudos or comments are super dee duper appreciated, and so would any offers of beta-ing for me because I am currently beta-less.
> 
> Stay tuned for chapter 2, which will be from Javi's POV!


	2. Memories of Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi's POV for this one.
> 
> In which Javi texts Yuzuru despite knowing very well that he won't be getting an answer.

Javi stares at the phone in his hands as if it’s a piece of hot coal burning his skin. Regret is already swallowing him whole and he suddenly gets the urge to hurl his phone into the nearest garbage can. He can’t believe he just did that. Texted Yuzuru. After months of radio silence on both ends.

As regret slowly devours his soul, Javi lets himself reflect on exactly what had been happening for the past year. 

Post-worlds last year, Yuzu had been MIA for two months for his injury, an experience that had changed him. For better or worse, it was hard to say. After his injury, he’d been super intense about training all through the season, but something especially weird had happened to him after the Four Continents Championships in February. The straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. He had lost the gold to American’s Nathan Chen, a quad-crazy kid of just seventeen years. And in Gangneung, on destined Olympic ice, no less. Afterwards, Yuzuru had returned to the training rink with a new fire in his belly. A fire that hisses and sparks and threatens to burn Javi every time he tries to get close to Yuzu.

Yuzu doesn’t smile at him anymore. Doesn’t talk to him anymore. Doesn’t acknowledge Javi’s existence at all, though he still acts civil to everyone else. Brian and Tracy had noticed this, and asked Javi what was going on between them, but truth be told, Javi is just as clueless as they are. Yuzu has a champion’s mind, hell-bent on nothing but the best, and sometimes that makes him an enigma, impossible to understand. 

Though Javi tries not to show it, the cold treatment hurts. Gone is the closeness the two boys had shared. Gone is five years' worth of friendship and trust. Gone is any sliver of hope Javi had had that their undeniable chemistry could turn into something more than tentative flirtations and suggestive looks. Just like that. Yuzuru has made it clear that he is focussed on nothing other than his victories, his career. 

The boy is out for blood.

Javi knows all this. He sees the cold inferno in Yuzu’s eyes every time he successfully lands his quad-sal-triple-toe in practice, the righteous anger that fuels him to practice even on the days when nothing’s going right. He understands it. He wants to win, too. And if he was in Yuzuru’s position, he would absolutely be prepared to isolate himself and turn every last one of this energies to training.

So why had he just texted Yuzuru when he knew he wouldn’t be getting an answer?

He doesn’t have too long to ponder the weight of his “Hey. How was your flight?” Shortly, Javi finds himself stepping through the front doors of the arena where the world championships are to take place. He’s an hour early to the first men’s practice, which is uncharacteristic of him, except that he’s the reigning, two-time world champion. The pressure’s definitely on, more than usual. It’s made him antsy, unable to feel comfortable just staying in his hotel room. The irresistible need to feel like he’s doing something productive keeps him busy in Helsinki. 

He goes to the locker room and starts his warmup off with some light, basic stretching. Putting in his favourite earbuds (a birthday gift from Yuzuru), he hits shuffle. 

And freezes. 

It’s that song. 

The one that Yuzuru made him listen to on their flight to Boston last year. Before everything had started to go to shit.

Javi has to sit down on a bench, the memory hits him so hard. 

\---------------------------------------------------------

_Yuzu had claimed the window seat, and was looking out the window at the airport beyond, deep in thought, when Javi sat down next to him. The Japanese boy offered a cheerful hello as Javi took his seat, but didn't say anything more. Javi immediately, instinctively knew then that Yuzu was worrying. He wasn't as chatty as usual. That, and the familiar crease between his brows had appeared. ___

____

_Feeling bold, Javi had reached out with his hand and carefully smoothed the other boy’s brow._

______ _ _

_Yuzu looked at him, surprised. ___

________ _ _ _ _

_“Don’t worry,” Javi had said, knowing full well it wouldn’t prevent the other boy from doing exactly that._

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Yuzuru gave him a watery smile. He shifted in his seat so that he was facing Javi instead of the window. Javi thought he was going to start talking, but Yuzu just offered him an earbud. ___

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Javi had accepted it carefully, knowing about Yuzu's penchant for expensive headphones. Wouldn't want to damage the Sony 123ABCs, or whatever other barcode-resembling name the earbuds had. He sat back and braced himself. He knew from past experiences that Yuzu’s taste in music was very different from his own. This song was no different. Japanese rock that he didn't understand a word of. Still, he’d pretended to like it for Yuzu’s sake. It was worth nearly going deaf to see his rinkmate smile again. ___

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_And smile Yuzu did, though he totally saw right through Javi's pretending. He hummed along to it, nodding his head to the beat. The crease between his eyebrows relaxed a bit. ___

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_After the song ended, they’d talked. About their families, about their plans for summer, about their trepidations about the upcoming championships. It had been nice. Yuzuru understood things about Javi that nobody else had ever gotten before. Partial language barrier and all. Then, when they’d exhausted just about every topic they could talk about, they had just sat together in silence. At some point, Yuzu’s head had gravitated towards Javi’s shoulder and stayed there. ___

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_And somehow, at the end of the flight, Javi had woken up from a nap to find his fingers intertwined with the other boy’s. ___

____________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He’d been surprised, but didn’t let go. No, if anything, he’d tightened his grip. And smiled, as Yuzuru gave a small contented sound. ___

______________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_It wasn't a bad way to spend the flight to Boston. ___

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

\---------------------------------------------------------

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

That feels like it happened centuries ago. 

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Javi sighs, but keeps listening to the nostalgic song. It’s grown on him. He hasn’t listened to it much lately, but last year, while Yuzu was off ice for his injury, Javi had streamed it on repeat. It had helped with a missing a bit, throughout those two months. But it doesn’t do anything but make it worse right now. 

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Javi doesn’t know why he does this to himself.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Limbs heavy, he finishes with his stretches, then decides to go check out the ice. He has a moment of indecision about whether or not to turn off his music before going out, but decides to in the end. Wouldn’t want to have a Yuzuru-induced emotional meltdown in public. Ha-ha. 

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Grabbing his stuff, he heads out the door-

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And nearly runs headfirst into the last person he wanted to see.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Yuzuru.

________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the second chapter! 
> 
> Thoughts? Queries? Concerns? Kudos? Comments? All are accepted and appreciated!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, a continuation of the change room scene, but in Yuzuru's POV!


	3. A Changeroom Encounter

Yuzu is at a loss for words.

Though he’s seen Javier at practice virtually every day at the Cricket Club, it’s been a while since they were standing this close together. The closeness instantly drives Yuzu’s already messy thoughts into a frenzy. Inhaling sharply, he takes a large step back. This is the last thing he needs right now.

As if broken out of a trance, Javi does the same, stumbling backwards. The Spaniard nearly trips over the bag he’s holding. “Sorry, Yuzu. I didn’t see you there.”

Hearing Javi say his name makes Yuzuru’s intestines wring themselves up into a knot. He doesn’t meet his rinkmate's eye as he mumbles a quiet “sorry” and moves past Javi into the changeroom. As he passes, though, Javi surprises him by grabbing his arm. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat. Slowly, he looks up at the other boy.

Javi’s always been an open book. His eyes, twelves different shades of brown that Yuzuru used to be proud to say that he had memorized, are filled with worry. “Hey. Um, did you get my text?”

Yes, Yuzu had gotten his text. And ignored it. 

“No.”

“Oh.” At a loss for words, Javi absentmindedly runs his tongue over his lips, a motion which nearly drives Yuzu to distraction. Shaking off the other boy’s hand, Yuzu keeps walking into the changeroom. But ever the persistent one, Javi tries to stop him again, this time reaching for Yuzu’s hand instead of his arm. 

Their fingers meet. 

Yuzuru is too surprised to snatch his hand back. He just stares dumbfoundedly at Javi. Electricity is coursing up his arm. Bright. Hot. Lethal. It’s the plane ride to Boston all over again. Javi’s fingers are warm and sure despite the troubled expression on his face. Yuzu doesn’t move; he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe.

He should shake the other boy’s hand off. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

It’s Javi who draws back first, hastily. Eyes widening, the Spaniard drops his hand as if just realizing what he has done. 

Yuzu’s arm falls to his side. 

“I-I’m gonna head to the rink,” Javier finally stutters, not making any move to head to the rink whatsoever.

Yuzuru nods. Steels his thudding heart. He doesn’t wait for the electric currents in his arm to settle down before turning his face away from the other boy, and walking further into the changeroom. _Calm down. It’s not a big deal. Stop it _. He’s hyperaware of Javi’s eyes following him as he sets his bag down, and prays for Kikuchi-san to walk in and deliver him of this awkwardness.__

_It’s your fault it’s awkward _, his inner voices accuse him.__

____

_Tell me something I don’t know _, he retorts.__

______ _ _

He busies himself with very purposefully not meeting Javier’s gaze and taking his stuff out of his bag. Earbuds, check. Pooh-san, check. Water bottle, check. Not looking at him not looking at him _not looking at him _. Check.__

____

______ _ _

____

With a quiet sigh, Javi turns in the doorway and starts to walk away.

____

______ _ _

____

After he leaves, Yuzuru stills, blinking up at the harsh ceiling lights as he tries to rein his roiling emotions back in. He’s not proud of cutting Javier off. Feels guilty about it, every night before he goes to sleep and every morning when he wakes up. But it’s necessary. If Yuzuru wants gold, he can’t have any distractions. Last year’s failure was proof enough of that. He still cringes, thinking about how he had let himself rest his head on Javi’s shoulder and slipped his hand into the other boy’s as Javi was sleeping. Pathetic. As if he’d had a chance with Javi anyways.

____

______ _ _

____

It’s only when he hears the last of Javi’s footsteps fading away does Yuzu finally let himself sit back on the bench, lean against the wall, and take a deep breath.

____

______ _ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! There's chapter 3 of Trading Crowns, I hope you enjoyed (or cried, or both because that's also a viable option yanno)!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are welcomed. And! I am currently still without a beta, so if you're interested in filling that role, don't hesitate to leave a comment.
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which jumps straight to the last short program practice before the actual competition- it'll be in Javi's POV!


	4. Last Short Program Practice

It’s the last short program practice, the morning before the real thing takes place. Nerves are strung high, and the entire arena is abuzz with excitement. Feeling a furious headache brooding at his temples, Javi does his best to ignore all the worries and nerves that have exploded tenfold since his encounter with Yuzuru a couple days ago. He tells himself that this competition has to come first. No emotions can interfere with his performance. 

He will be okay. He will be fine.

It’s easier said than believed.

A few cameras click here and there when Javi steps into the ice rink, but the smattering of sounds quickly turns into an avalanche, which can only mean one thing. Javi looks behind him fleetingly, just long enough to confirm that yep, Yuzuru Hanyu, the media’s darling, has arrived too. There are dozens of Japanese media personnel eyeing Yuzuru’s every move, and though Javi’s been competing against him for years now, he still is flabbergasted by the amount of attention Yuzu gets. 

“The skaters of group six may now take the ice for their practice.”

Predictably, Yuzuru’s the first on the ice, giving it a quick tap before taking off. He doesn’t even wait until group five has exited the rink. The applause for the previous group carries on as Yuzu enters- escalates, even- and there are a few cries of “Ganbatte!”

Javi’s the last to enter, taking his comparative sweet time taking off his skate guards and handing them to Brian. By the time he’s got a good groove going, Yuzu’s already made something like three laps. Javi's fine with his own pace, though. Slow and steady wins the race; the lack of hastiness in his deliberate, relaxed actions helps his mind calm down.

As the announcer lays out the order of the skaters, Javi keeps sneaking glances at Yuzu. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. A crack in the other boy’s marble facade? A hint that the pressure of the championships is getting to him? A requited look back in Javi’s direction?

It doesn’t matter, because Javi doesn’t see any of those things. There’s no hint of Yuzu, _his_ Yuzu, in the man staring out at the ice. There is only fire.

_Focus. ___

__

__Javi can sense Brian and Tracy watching him intensely from the boards, and turns his gaze away from Yuzuru. He didn’t come to Helsinki to ogle his competition- because yes, he reminds himself, here, on this rink, all Yuzuru Hanyu is is his competitor. Javi is here to win. To prove that the two gold medals hanging on his wall back home are justly deserved. To bring back a third one.__

____

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flurry of movement. Then, a burst of applause and cheers. Yuzuru glides out of a textbook perfect jump (Javi didn’t see it, but he’s pretty sure it was a quad toe loop). As Javi skates past him, he sees the other boy take a deep breath. Even though they’re not on speaking terms, Javi feels a twinge of protectiveness for his rinkmate. Another round of camera clicks flood the arena as the media engage in their own competition: who can snag the most of Yuzuru Hanyu.

____

With a start, Javi realizes that he’s staring again. He abruptly turns on the rink, and nearly skates straight into Japan’s Shoma Uno. Javi grimaces his apology. 

____

The Japanese smiles politely, apologetically, and dips his head. And then he's off again. Javi watches him go. He’s a young upstart from the new generation, Shoma. Captivating expressiveness plus splendid jumps makes him a definite podium contender here. He’s taken off his jacket to reveal a gorgeous costume that fades from light to dark blue at the waist and is bedazzled with a classy amount of rhinestones. The costume makes Javi, who decides to take a water break beside Brian and Tracy at the boards, feel very underwhelming in his regular old training gear. 

____

That is, until he catches another glimpse of Yuzuru in _his_ training gear and very quickly changes his mind about the attractiveness of plain black pants and a sports jacket. 

____

The spell’s broken a second later, though, when Yuzu falls on a quad sal attempt. The entire arena gives a collective _ooh_. After skidding for a few seconds, Yuzu pops right back up. There’s a sheepish smile on his face as he wipes the ice shavings off his blades and mouths “okay” to himself. 

_______ _ _ _

Knowing that Yuzu’s going to want to come to Brian for some advice after that fall, Javi quickly caps his water bottle and skates away. Before he turns his head, though, he sees Yuzu unzipping his jacket to reveal his tight black shirt underneath. Hysterically, at the same time that Yuzuru’s jacket starts to come off, Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You’ starts playing. 

_______ _ _ _

Javi doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

_______ _ _ _

_______ _ _ _

In an attempt to calm himself down (why does he even need to calm down! This is ridiculous! Yuzuru freaking Hanyu is ridiculous!), Javi discreetly scopes out the other skaters in group six. There’s Maxim Kovtun, the tall Russian with whom Javi has shared the European Championships podium with three times. There’s Jason Brown, the bubbly American with gushing charisma but few quads. And there’s Patrick Chan, Olympic silver medalist and three-time world champion. 

_______ _ _ _

Javi is hoping he can channel Patrick here in Helsinki; Chan had won three consecutive world championships, including the one in 2013, right before the Olympics. Now, it’s come full Olympic circle, except Javier’s the one in the limelight this time. Funnily enough, he and Patrick are wearing near identical outfits of all black with suspenders. _It wasn’t planned, I promise!_ he thinks as the Canadian gives him a subtle once-over. 

_______ _ _ _

“Gentlemen, your warmup is complete.” 

_______ _ _ _

All falls quiet as Ed Sheeran’s voice fades. 

_______ _ _ _

Yuzuru slows down to take center rink. He does it his usual pre-skate ritual, pulling his arms to the side and making a cross-resembling gesture to calibrate his body axis. 

_______ _ _ _

“First to skate, Yuzuru Hanyu.” 

_______ _ _ _

An anticipatory hush, then the first chord of Prince’s ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ reverberates through the arena. Javi watches in his periphery as Yuzu glides forwards. A half-mischievous, half-alluring smile is tugging at the corners of his lips.

_______ _ _ _

Javi gulps. He should really not being thinking about Yuzuru’s lips. 

_______ _ _ _

As Yuzuru does a spread eagle into a quad loop- one of his signature jumps now- Javi is struck by how much the Japanese has changed since his first competition in Helsinki nearly five years ago. No longer rail-thin and flying across the ice without ever really carving into it, Yuzuru’s nearly a whole new creature now. His edges are deep and beautiful. He’s learned to capture and employ the nuances that turn a good performer into a great one. Every step he takes hits the spot. Every facial expression and movement of his arms commands all those who watch him. 

_______ _ _ _

Javi wonders how much of his transformation is thanks to training in Toronto. He wonder if _he’s_ made Yuzu change, in an way at all. He hopes he has, as he watches his rinkmate execute a flawless quad-sal-triple-toe.

_______ _ _ _

(Speaking of hope, Javi also suddenly has the outlandish wish that Yuzu would look at him the way he’s looking at the empty judges’ seats. Give him that devilish glare and wicked smile. Just once. Then, Javi thinks, he could die happy.) 

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo chapter 4!! (I mean, I call them chapters, but they're so short I should probably just call them 'parts' or 'segments' haha). As per usual, comments and kudos are majorly appreciated :)
> 
> Also UGH I know nothing about HTML and trying to add italics is so painful asjdkhjshd I do the < em > thing but it always manages to mess up somehow?? the lines I want italicized don't work and then random other lines do italicize??? idk maybe I'm just doing it wrong?? but it's taking actual years off my life oiiii smh
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be in Yuzu's POV!!


	5. Last Short Program Practice Cont'd

He can’t believe he popped the triple axel. The triple axel, of all things! 

Yuzu remains berating himself long after his short program runthrough is over. Brian and Tracy show their support for his successful quad-sal-triple-toe, which truly had been pretty decent, but Yuzu can’t stop laughing at himself everytime he replays that popped axel in his head. At least, he’s laughing on the outside. On the inside, though, he’s not so mirthful about it.

What if he pops it again during the real competition? He never should have let himself get carried away by the quad-sal-triple-toe. Just because he’d finally landed it doesn’t mean he could throw the rest of the program to the wind. He would never let himself live it down if a _popped triple axel_ of all things cost the him the world championships. The media would never let him live it down. His competitors would never let him live it down. Brian and Tracy and Javi would-

_Nope._ Yuzu slams that door in his head. But his disobedient thoughts keep sneaking back to Javi, who has just started his runthrough. Yuzu tries desperately to keep ahold of his one-track mind, but when Pandora’s box has been opened, it's a near impossible feat to close again. Also, it really doesn’t help that he has memorized Javi’s entire program and so knows exactly which locations and angles on the ice from which are best to inconspicuously watch the Spaniard skate. Also not helpful: Javier’s costume, which is black and form-fitting and looks extremely, dangerously good on him. 

About ten seconds into Javi’s program, Yuzu realizes that he is gawking. Just gliding along at snail’s pace at the side of the rink, staring at Javi, wearing what's probably the expression of the world's biggest doofus. His face immediately flushes. To make matters worse, this is the point in Javi’s program where he skates directly along the side of the rink that Yuzu’s on. Though Javier zips by in a heartbeat, he still manages to make eye contact with Yuzu.

Too late, Yuzu casts his gaze to the ground. But Javier is seared into his vision, indelible. By now, Yuzu's face is on fire. He wishes it was socially acceptable to lie down on the rink and press his cheeks against it to cool down. Instead, he has to resort to begrudgingly picking up the pace and returning to making laps around the rink. The only other time he allows himself to look at Javi, the Spaniard is the midst of taking a nasty fall on his quad salchow. Yuzu doesn’t look back after that, allows some fire to trickle into his veins as he lines up for a triple axel.

_Shuu, pa!_

Spotless triple axel. Yuzu nods, silently thanks the ice beneath his blades. The audience applauds. Javi is pausing in his choreography to catch his breath after his quad salchow fall. Not that Yuzu is looking or paying attention or noticing or anything. Nor is he looking when Javi pops his own triple axel into a double. He doesn’t wince at that or feel a twinge of empathy for his rinkmate. Not at all.

He reminds himself that he is a man on a mission. He will win this competition. He will make his country proud. He will be world champion again. He will keep a clear head, by any means necessary. Any feelings he has about Javier must be ground into dust under his heel.

Even if those very feelings are screaming at him, telling him that he’s getting it all wrong. That he needs to break this terrible silence. That he needs Javi more than he knows. That Javi is maybe the one person in the entire world who _gets_ him, that he will never be able to erase Javier Fernandez Lopez from his mind or his heart for as long as he lives, so he might as well stop trying and just let himself _feel._

After the practice is over, Yuzu and Javi leave the rink at the same time, side by side. They don’t speak. But to Yuzuru’s horror, he feels himself wanting to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, can you believe it's the 5th chapter already? My apologies that this one's rather short, I just wanted to compound the scene with Yuzu's POV to get a better picture of how things are going before we launch into part 6 (which I am very very excited about since the romantic action starts to kick into gear a little bit more mwahaha).
> 
> Got any comments? Kudos? Burning questions? I will do my best to reply, appreciate, and answer, respectively, so don't hesitate to leave some!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which Javi asks Yuzu on a lunch date and they somehow end up alone in an elevator together ;)


	6. A Lunch Date

Javi decides that he is going to ask Yuzuru to have lunch with him. The men’s short program starts at 12:30 noon, but group six isn’t due to be on ice until just before 5 PM. So Javi picks up his phone and, before his courage can leave him, sends a text message to Yuzu.

_Hi Yuzuru. Would you like to get lunch together?_

He hates how formal he sounds, but at this point, he’s afraid he’ll offend the other party if he comes off too casually. It’s twenty minutes before Yuzuru responds. As soon as the notification dings on Javi’s screen, a mixture of dread and delight floods his stomach.

_Okay._

Javi spends a full thirty seconds doing deep breathing exercises that Tracy had taught them to help with pre-competition nerves.

_Great. I’ll come get you from your hotel room in ten minutes. Does that sound good?_

_Yeah._

Javi spends all of five minutes agonizing over what to wear, nearly jumping off his walls with ecstasy from the “Yeah”. A yeah was a good sign, right? A yeah was friendly. A yeah was “I like you enough to get lunch with you when you ask and therefore I do not actually hate you even though I’ve been acting like I do for the past year”, right? In the end, Javi decides on a casual all-black outfit. What can he say? Black is his power colour.

And apparently, it’s also Yuzuru’s. (Javi knew that already, though, has stared at him in his training gear enough times to have the boy’s figure clad in black imprinted permanently in his mind). The Japanese boy steps out of his hotel room when Javi knocks, wearing black track pants and a black jacket with a silver zipper. He looks good- _really_ good- but Javi’s not about to let him know it or anything.

Except that he can’t stop checking Yuzu out from the corner of his eye as they head down to the hotel restaurant, and is too distracted to hear the first words that Yuzuru utters to him in months.

“Sorry?”

“I said,” Yuzu repeats, “How are you feel for the short?”

“Oh, you know.” Javi has to study the carpeted floor to clear the dryness from the throat. “I’m kind of nervous. But you get used to this type of nerves after this many years. It’s just Worlds, right?” He laughs.

Yuzuru doesn’t join in, and frowns even harder. 

Javi immediately sobers. “Well, um, what about you?”

The other boy is silent for a beat before answering. “I’m feel kind of nervous, too. The runthrough today wasn’t really good.”

“Don’t worry,” Javi finds himself echoing his words from the Boston plane ride. “Trust your training, like Brian says. You trained hard. You can do it.”

Yuzu nods and shrugs at the same time. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.

They arrive at the restaurant, where some other skaters are also having lunch. Javi spies Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir, Kaitlyn Weaver, Andrew Poje, Piper Gilles, and Paul Poirier sitting together in a booth- all the Canadian ice dancers. Laughter and jovial conversation flow like wine from their table, and for a second, Javi’s tempted to join them. At another table, an assortment of ladies- Karen Chen, Elizabet Tursynbaeva, and Dabin Choi- are getting to know each other over their salads. And just before Javi finds a table for himself and Yuzuru, he spots Xiaoyu Yu and Hao Zhang sitting with Vanessa James and Morgan Cipres; an unlikely combination, but apparently everyone’s feeling social today.

At their own table, Javi and Yuzu sit down across from one another. It kind of feels like a date, except that neither of them are speaking. Javi wonders if this was a good idea. After the waiter brings by a menu, Javi orders a sandwich and Yuzu orders nothing. The Japanese boy explains how he has a meal plan all set out by a sports nutritionist. Only his water intake isn’t as strictly monitored, so Yuzu sips on ice water as Javi inhales his chicken club.

“Wait, so if you knew you couldn’t eat anything,” Javi says after finishing a bite of his sandwich, “Why did you say yes to having lunch? I mean, I’m glad you’re here, but you didn’t have to come and watch me eat. It must be torture.”

“I already eat before. Japanese food.” Indeed, Yuzu looks quite content with his water.

“Oh.”

Yuzu shrugs. He plays with the straw in his drink, then clasps his hands together. “I guess I wanted- I wanted to- I mean…” He ducks his head. “Talking to you. I wanted talking to you.”

“Oh.” Javi is acutely aware that he’s failing miserably at driving the conversation with his witty one-word one-liner of “oh”. He puts his sandwich down. Gives Yuzuru what he hopes is a warm smile. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

Yuzu won’t meet his eye. He clears his throat. “I- um- uh-” 

It isn’t like Yuzuru to not know what to say. He’s blushing, too. In spite of himself, Javi thinks it’s cute.

“I wanted,” Yuzu finally speaks, “to wish you good luck.” He sits back in his chair as if it had taken him great effort to say it.

“Oh.” Javi blinks. Their first conversation in months, and _this_ is what it is? Never call Yuzuru Hanyu unsportsmanlike, he supposes. “I mean, thank you, Yuzuru. That means a lot to me. Good luck to you, too. _Ganbatte_.”

“ _Ganbatte_.” Yuzuru bows his head. 

When he looks back up, their eyes meet. 

In the split second before Yuzuru can divert his gaze, Javi does his best to read him. He knows that Yuzu must be scared, must be struggling to stay afloat amidst all the pressure he’s receiving from everyone, himself included. He wonders how he’s taking it.

As if on cue, that familiar crease between Yuzuru’s eyebrows appears again. His eyes flicker away from Javi’s, and he stares away out the window at the streets beyond.

Javi holds back a sigh. All he wants to do is help. The selfish flame of competitiveness is still alight inside of him, but overshadowing it is concern for his rinkmate. He knows how Yuzu gets. He’s been there through the worst of it.

What will it take for Yuzuru to finally let him in again? It’s like the other boy’s been trying to undo the near five years of bonding that the two have undergone. The gruelling practices, survived only by feeding off of each other’s competitive spirits; the conversations in changerooms, on airplanes, at banquets, at each other’s houses, punctuated by imperfect English from both of them but overflowing with mutual understanding nonetheless; the countless hours spent trying to cheer each other up after disappointing performances and congratulating each other after good ones; podiums shared; friendship formed. 

And something _more_ than friendship- though Javi's beginning to think that maybe he’d simply imagined that last part.

As Yuzuru looks away, Javi unabashedly takes in his fill of the other boy’s face. He’s missed it. This face. Soft features framed by a sideswept fringe of black hair. Sharp jaw, contrasted by an easy smile (he’s not smiling now, but Javi can use his imagination) and dark, expressive eyes. Currently, there’s also bags under those eyes, but that’s to be expected. Javi’s been feeling the toll of the championships himself. That, and the toll of his (ridiculous! wholly inconvenient!) feelings for his devastatingly attractive rinkmate.

Just then, Yuzuru stands up. “I’m going back to my room now.” His chair screeches on the floor.

Javi stands up, too. “I’ll walk you.”

It’s not like Yuzu can object without being rude; and if there’s one thing the Japanese never is, it’s rude. So he nods wordlessly and lets Javi match him stride for stride as they leave the restaurant and enter the elevator that’ll take them back to Yuzuru’s room’s floor. 

They step in at the same time, and the narrow doorway forces Javi to sidestep so he doesn’t smack his arm against it. In the process of this, he accidentally brushes hands with Yuzuru.

It’s a millisecond of contact, but you’d think that Javi had taken a taser to Yuzu’s hand or something. The other boy recoils. He pulls his hand away and practically jumps to the opposite corner of the elevator from Javi. 

Javi grits his teeth and pretends to not notice. But some of the hurt must be colouring his face, because Yuzuru softens. 

“Sorry.”

“What for?” Javi concentrates on the quiet elevator music, trying to restore rhythm to his erratic breathing. It’s suddenly occurred to him that he’s alone in an elevator with Yuzuru. 

Alone. 

In an elevator. 

With Yuzuru.

Yuzu tilts his head slightly. Says nothing more. 

Javi feels the other boy’s gaze digging into the side of his face. Now it’s his turn to be looked at.

 _Months of silence._ Javi shakes his head nearly imperceptibly- _nearly,_ because he knows Yuzuru is watching and taking note of his every infinitesimal movement. The elevator music fades from his mind. _Fine. You wanna stare? Two can play at that game._ He turns his head. Locks eyes with Yuzuru. This time, neither of them drop their gaze. It’s a staring contest of the worst and best sort, each of them drinking in the sight of the man they had missed for so long. Each of them waiting for the other to make a move, any move.

Between the two of them, Javi’s usually the patient one. But not this time. Not when Yuzuru’s looking at him like that. 

In one step, before he can clearly think through what he’s doing, Javi clears the distance between the two of them. He stands chest to chest with Yuzu, leaving mere centimetres between them. The closeness sends fireworks exploding all around his nerve endings. It steals the breath out of his lungs. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t speak. He doesn’t want to break the moment.

Slowly, carefully, he reaches his hand forwards to touch the other boy’s cheek.

Instantly, Yuzuru stiffens. His eyes dart all over Javi’s face. His heart pounds loud enough for Javi to hear. He tries to back away, but can’t as he finds his back plastered against the wall of the elevator. A flicker of panic dances across his face.

The spell breaks. 

Just like that, the moment’s ruined. 

Javi closes his eyes and groans softly. What does he think he’s doing? He lets go of Yuzuru’s cheek and turns away, a strange mix of remorse and unfulfilled desire flooding his senses. 

He thinks of the last time he can remember touching Yuzuru like that. It had been during the medal ceremony last year at Worlds. Yuzu had come to claim his silver on the podium, stopping on the way to shake Javi’s hand. They’d pulled each other in for a hug, arms that weren’t clasped in a handhold encircling each other’s shoulders. After pulling away, Javi had smiled at Yuzu and touched his cheek, looking into the other boy’s eyes in hopes of conveying every emotion he felt for him. Pride. Gratitude. Camaraderie. Warmth. Love. Yuzu had also been reluctant to pull away from the hug, gripping Javi’s forearms before they separated. As their arms slipped away from each other’s, their fingers touched. It didn’t feel like an accident. Nothing had felt like an accident.

It had been one of the best feelings in Javi’s life to stand on the that podium, side by side with Yuzuru Hanyu. It had made him feel like he was on the top of the world.

It’s been a whole year since they shared a podium, he realizes.

Now, everything has changed.

 _You idiot,_ he rebukes himself inwardly, _he’s made it clear as day that he doesn’t want you anywhere near him. Doesn’t want you, period. Why can’t you just leave him alone? You jerk._

And that’s when he feels the other boy grab his hand.

He freezes.

“Javi,” says Yuzu. 

He can’t feel his fingers. At the same time, he can’t feel anything _but_ his fingers. And Yuzuru’s fingers, slipping into them. Like puzzle pieces, perfectly interlocking. Javi’s breath rattles in his chest.

“Javi,” Yuzu says again. His voice is unreadable.

The elevator dings, the door beginning to slide open. They’ve arrived at Yuzuru’s floor.

Javi responds finally, quietly, with a throat as dry as a desert, “Yeah?”

“What I wanted- want to say to you… Today, why I said yes to have lunch, it was not to say good luck. Not just good luck.” Yuzu sucks in a shaky breath, his calm composure cracking ever the slightest bit. He looks up at the ceiling, blinking.

“What else?” Javi asks softly, “What else did you want to say?”

“I wanted to say-” the other boy hesitates. A heartbeat passes. Then: 

“I’m sorry. Really.”

Yuzuru leaves the elevator before Javi can ask again, _sorry for what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There had to be an alone-in-an-elevator scene. There just had to.
> 
> I hope you have all enjoyed this chapter of Trading Crowns! If you did, any kudos or comments would be greatly appreciated :) Aaand in case you haven't read the bio on my profile/aren't already connected with me on social media, you totally should! I'm @misterquadrupleaxel on Instagram and Tumblr, and @mrquadruplaxel on Twitter. Let's be mutuals hahaha
> 
> In the meantime, stay tuned for chapter 7, which will be the short program competition, in Yuzu's POV!


	7. Let's Go Crazy

Yuzu’s been in backstage warming up for a good while now, getting his blood pumping and mind focussed, listening to his power songs. 

He had made sure to remove the "Boston" song from his collection beforehand so there was no chance of distraction. Even when Javi enters the backstage area to start warming up- he’s due to skate a few people after Yuzu- Yuzuru stays focussed. Razor-sharp. The adrenaline is a whetstone and Yuzuru Hanyu is well accustomed to sharpening his blade of a mind. The mental aspect is the hardest part right now. He’s feeling great, physically. Best shape of his life. There are no excuses for failure this time around. 

Thundering cheers from the audience are already shaking the very foundations of the arena before Yuzuru even enters. They only get louder when he does. Though the niggling worries in his mind never completely go away, he feels like he’s able to quell them enough. He knows that he’s going to own the ice before he even gets on it. 

There’s no doubt about it. He has to.

The six minute warmup is over a blink of the eye. As usual, there are many cheers when Yuzuru stripped off his black jacket to reveal the purple printed vest underneath. He feels kind of self-conscious, like he always does whenever he’s wearing this unconventional, skintight, iridescent getup, but the more he skates the less he thinks about it. There are more pressing things to think about. Such as his quad-sal-triple-toe.

He barely even thinks about Javier at all as he strokes across the ice, despite the Spaniard coming within arm’s reach several times as their warmup patterns converge. This is how he knows he’s in the zone. In Yuzuru’s head, there is only the familiar tunnel vision of competition. The familiar dig of ice under his blades. The thousands of audience members, watching him, their faces blurring as he speeds by. The nerves. The focus. The steely determination. The champion’s mindset.

At the end of warmup, Yuzu stays by the boards for a while as the rest of the group six skaters left. He takes a quick swig from his water bottle, and reaches out to give Pooh-san a good luck squeeze… only to find that his beloved tissue box isn’t stationed on the boards like it usually is. He sees Kikuchi-san holding it, and raps adamantly at boards for Pooh-san to be passed over. Pre-skate rituals are of utmost importance. _Pooh-san_ is of utmost importance.

After making sure all the conditions are right, Yuzu shakes hands with Brian, pats the boards, and is off. The usual axis-steadying gesture anchors him even more as he circles in on his starting position at centre ice. The figure skating world watches with bated breath as the twenty-two year old Olympic champion takes a deep breath.

And then, he’s ready.

Yuzuru Hanyu of Japan, in Helsinki to reclaim his crown. 

Can he do it?

The song begins. The curtain rises. The performance starts. 

A beautiful spread eagle- quad loop- spread eagle later, the arena erupts into cheers.

Yes, yes he can.

Yuzu’s dimly aware of Brian jumping up from the boards as he sticks the landing perfectly. Just in time, the beat of the song kicks in. And then, some transitional moves later, it’s time for the quad-sal-triple-toe. He doesn’t try to control his facial expression, to mold it into something resembling the playfulness that Let’s Go Crazy exudes. It’s all business for this combination jump.

The quad salchow feels good in the air. He gets a lot of height. But somewhere up there, his axis shifts. Just a few degrees off kilter. The landing is wobbly, and he has to throw his free leg down prematurely to avoid a fall. 

_Kuso._

Luckily, he manages to attach a Rippon double toe at the end. Hopefully that’s enough for the combination to not be invalidated.

Still, the damage is done. As Yuzuru heads into his first set of spins, he wonders if the deductions on the grade of execution will be what costs him the gold.

_Focus!_ He pulls the reins on his rearing thoughts. _You’re not done for yet._

The show must go on. Even if he can’t salvage the quad-sal-triple-toe, he can still sell the rest of the program and make it enjoyable for the audience. A spectacular triple axel later- with a high kick added as the cherry on top- he’s back on his game. Right before the footwork begins, he faces the audience and cups his hands around his face as if to say “ _I can’t hear you!”_ The deafening cheers and applause that greet him turn the ice rink into a bona fide rock concert. 

The electric guitar climbs to a climax, Prince’s voice and the voices of the thousands of audiences members with it. By the time Yuzuru throws his hands down in his ending pose, it feels like his eardrums have burst. There is ringing, and then there are the deafening cheers of the audience.

He heaves for air. Sweat stings his eyes. It’s not as bad as it used to be, the feeling after he finishes a program, but it’s still not pleasant. His asthma is tickling at the inside of his chest. He fights it back down with commanding lungfuls of air. 

The noises all around him seem to fade away again as his head clears and he realizes the extent of what he’s just done. He’s not sure how to feel about his skate at all. On one hand, there’s Brian and Tracy’s voices in his head, telling him that it’s not the end of the world if he made a mistake and that it’s good that he connected with the audience. But on the other hand, there’s the wretched feeling of having failed. The last competition of the season (except World Team Trophy, which he’s still on the fence about), and he still hasn’t managed to skate perfectly. No new world records will be written today. Not by Yuzuru Hanyu.

He tries to keep the immense frustration off his face as he bows, but it’s hard. The weight of his failures threatens to crush him. He knows everyone will be doubting him now. Media, fans, critics; they are all wondering if Yuzuru Hanyu is past his prime now, unable to compete with the up-and-coming, unable to even compete with his past self. He wonders what the other men are thinking. He’s left the door wide open.

Worst of all, Yuzu is disappointed in himself. All that training, and he wasn’t able to bear the fruits of it. All the risks, with the new quad loop and more quads in the short and free, and he wasn’t able to deliver. All his years of hard work, and maybe all he’ll ever deserve is silver, or worse. Maybe he’s fighting a battle he’s not meant to win.

Brian and Tracy murmur words of comfort in the kiss and cry, but Yuzu barely hears any of it.

A 98.39 is enough to put him at second place, but not enough to satisfy him. Second is not first. Brian turns and tells him it was _“so close”._ Yuzu closes his eyes, takes a breath. He will not let it crush him, he will not he will not _he will not_. When he opens his eyes again, Brian’s frowning, asking about the deduction. Yuzu frowns, tilts his head. Was it the quad-sal landing?

No matter now. The score is done. The damage is done.

Perhaps, Yuzuru Hanyu is done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, good day, my lovely people. I hope you are all doing well today, and that you enjoyed this latest chapter of Trading Crowns. Sorry I'm behind on my daily updates- life got in the way, as it has its funny way of doing. But I'm back now, and ready for more writing!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be Javi's SP from his POV!


	8. Malagueña

Dramatic violin music colours the background of noises in the backstage area as Shoma Uno performs his heart out. 

Javi sneaks looks at the TV screen broadcasting the ice every once in a while, though he’s trying his best to focus. Shoma continues to deliver flawless jump after flawless jump, and with each confident landing, Javi’s heart sinks a little more. The nineteen year old has undeniable talent. Could it be enough to steal the world crown?

Shaking his head to clear it, Javi turns firmly away from the screen. He needs to focus on his skate; the abilities of others are out of his hands. 

He spies Brian and Tracy coming down the hall, and in between them, Yuzuru. The Japanese skater’s smiling and nodding as the coaches give him what are no doubt words of encouragement, but his body language betrays him. His head is bowed, as if his neck is too tired to hold it upright. His hands are worrying at his sleeves. His smile resembles a grimace and his eyes are fixated on the floor.

Javi walks from the warmup area over to where they are in the hallway, his heart brimming with empathy for his rinkmate. Once upon a time, a 98.39 would have been an outstanding score. It still is, really, just not by Yuzuru Hanyu’s standards. Brian and Tracy see Javi coming, and understanding flickers simultaneously in their faces. They each give Yuzu a last word of encouragement, Tracy giving him a hug and Brian, a clap on the shoulder. And then, they leave. 

Javi’s got Yuzuru all to himself.

“Hey, Yuzu,” he tests the waters.

“Hi,” Yuzu replies. He sounds normal, if a bit crestfallen, which is a positive sign given the circumstances. His dark eyes fixate on something behind Javi, and Javi twists his head back just in time to see a tiny, pixelated Shoma Uno on the TV screen go from a spread eagle into a sweeping triple axel. A tad bit of a crunchy landing, but he sticks his trademark cantilever on the end of it and all is forgiven.

Yuzu’s expression doesn’t change, but something stirs in his gaze as he quietly claps for his compatriot.

“Good job out there,” Javi says, bringing Yuzuru’s attention back to the backstage area. To himself. To the two of them. Conversing. Alone. He swallows. It almost feels like the old times.

“Thank you.” Automatically, Yuzuru bobs his head. It’s almost like a reflex for him, after all the thanks he gives: to the ice, to the audience, to his coaches, to the arena staff and volunteers. Javi instantly feels a twinge of guilt; Yuzuru’s probably exhausted, both from skating and from showing his gratitude to literally everyone around him. Under the psychedelic purple and sequined glamour of his Let’s Go Crazy costume, he certainly looks it. His skin hangs pale from his jutting cheekbones. His eyes are guarded. There’s no telling what sort of storm is brewing in his head, Javi knows.

So he doesn’t say much more. He knows what Yuzuru needs, and that, for now, is rest. And support. He reaches a hand out and lays it on Yuzuru’s shoulder, a well-worn gesture that he’s done at many a medal ceremony, practice, gala, banquet. 

Yuzu looks up, a spark of something- surprise? disdain? desire? vulnerability?- in his gaze.

“I mean it, Yuzuru.” And Javi does, with every fibre of his being. “You did your best. Don’t be too hard on yourself. There’s still the free.”

“Still the free,” Yuzu mutters.

“Yeah. And I know you can do it. I believe in you.”

At last, the sun breaks the clouds. 

It’s a small smile on Yuzuru’s face, not quite reaching his eyes, but a smile nonetheless. He nods at Javi. Reaches his own hand up, clamps it on Javi’s shoulder. His touch is warm and firm, comforting and strengthening. Heat spreads from where he’s touching Javi’s shoulder, down Javi’s arm and all throughout his body. 

Javi finds himself beaming. Here is the other side of Yuzuru Hanyu, the boy he knows and lov- _Ahem._ Now _that’s_ something for another time, he scolds himself. He firmly slams that door in his head shut. Focusses on the moment at hand. Looks into Yuzu’s eyes and sees that dear, familiar fire: the one that warms, not scorches.

There are no words exchanged between them, just a mutual stare. In its span of five seconds, it somehow conveys more than sentences ever could.

Yuzu has to leave to heed the media’s demands before long, and Javi has to return to his warmup. But even after their goodbye, Javi can feel Yuzuru’s touch on his shoulder like a blazing handprint. He doesn’t hear the tail end of Shoma Uno’s program as he watches Yuzu leaving. Is totally deaf and blind to the performance of the Russian Maxim Kovtun.

Yuzu can be a tempest at his worst, a lightning storm violent enough to shatter ships into oblivion, but when he so feels inclined, he is also the best sort of anchor.

By the time he’s on to skate, Javi is ready as he’s ever going to be.

\------------------------------------ 

Javi’s in the zone. Feelings about Yuzuru temporarily stomached and stored aside. He listens to every word of Brian’s and Tracy’s, takes what he needs from them, and pushes into the rink. As his blades connect with the ice, he knows this will be a good skate. Feels it from the marrow in his bones. He takes a few broad, swift strokes and glides along the length of the rink, slowly raising his hands to acknowledge the audience. To acknowledge the occasion.

_The king has returned._

Before going into his opening pose, Javi makes sure to meet eyes with the judges. He sweeps what he knows is a killer gaze across the panel. 

_Watch me._

He doesn’t blink, diverts his gaze momentarily to the ice for a second of breath, and then Malagueña begins. Snap. Eyes to the camera just above the judge’s panel.

Helsinki is watching. Spain is watching. The world is watching. 

Everyone is waiting for Javier Fernandez to show them what he’s worth.

 _Two world championships,_ he thinks as he hits every single musical cue, perfectly attuned to the hypnotizing guitar line. _A third._

Today, he is not only Javier Fernandez, figure skater. 

The blue and white colours of the Finnish ice rink warp into Spanish red and yellow as Javier takes off for his first combination jump: a quad-toe-triple-toe. Smooth as silk, sharp as daggers. It’s pass with flying colours.

He is centuries of Malagueña, from the style’s very origins as folkloric fandangos, to its evolution into flamenco, to its modern makeover by twentieth century singers and guitarists. He is the courtship, the evocativeness, the flames that burn hungrily.

The solo quad, a quadruple salchow straight out of footwork, tilts slightly off axis, but Javier is a regular pro at saving jumps. His back stays strong and his legs do not betray him. Another exquisite jump.

He is a dancer, a pupil and extension of Malagueña dancers of the past and present. 

He is the sweat, blood, and art of his country.

The last jumping pass is a triple axel. No problem. A choreographic flourish of the hands, and Javier is golden. The spins stretch slow as honey, but it’s during the step sequence that Javi dials up the charm to full power. He knows this music like the back of his hand, like the blades beneath his feet. The Malagueña is second nature to him. 

It does not let him down.

Javi slides into his ending pose back where he started: eyes wide, staring down the judges. 

He’s done it. Finished. Clean. 

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The cheers are deafening as he takes his bows, and he lets it soak in. Each Spanish flag and banner bearing his name is a pinnacle of light that has helped him navigate his way to where he is now, standing, once again, at the top of the world; he is so, so grateful for each of them. The joy on the faces of each audience member he scans as he accepts their praise feels like it is enough to power him through a hundred, a thousand quadruple jumps. Buoyed by the feeling, by the rising warmth in his chest, he smiles and nods his acknowledgement. 

In that moment, it’s difficult to tell the difference between figure skater and king.

And a few minutes later, a score worthy of a world champion writes itself into the history books: 109.05

Javier Fernandez is not a boastful man, but he is an honest one. He’s glad to be telling the truth when he says that he is proud of himself today. He applauds himself and nods again. The feeling of control is back. A premonition of a crown glints on his head. 

Now, to play his cards skillfully for the free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that! I hope you've enjoyed reading Malagueña as much as I enjoyed rewatching it over and over to try to encapsulate its essence. What a treat that was, honestly. (And I can't wait to cry a river while doing the same thing when I write Hope and Legacy ahahahhh.)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are highly appreciated :)
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which is from Yuzu's POV and a total turning point in the story. It's such a long scene, I think I'm going have to break it into two parts. Get excited (because I sure am hehehe)!!


	9. Late Night Balcony Overture Part 1

_There’s a lot of pressure, there’s a lot of expectation, but none more so than what you expect of yourself._ Retired-ice-dancer-turned-interviewer Charlie White’s words, but Yuzuru agrees completely.

He’d been a bit dazed after the short program, but had been bombarded with questions and cameras nonetheless. Unfortunately, the media never rests. Charlie had probably been the nicest out of all of them. 

_Talk about the focus that you have to have going into an event like the world championships._

Yuzu had momentarily blanked then. Focus? What focus? He’d thought he’d been focussed going into his skate, but evidently from the quad-sal-triple-toe, it hadn’t been enough. Charlie, a sensitive young man with experience being on the other side of the interview, had sensed Yuzu’s frustration and quickly shifted to questions about chances for redemption in the free. With laughter that sounded lighter than it felt, Yuzu had pointed out that he still had two chances to perfect the quad salchow, and finished by saying that he’d do his best to focus in the free.

What he didn’t add, though, was his worry that his best wouldn’t be enough.

Now he’s lying awake in his hotel room at two in the morning, way too late to not have slept a wink yet, but his stubborn thoughts won’t quiet. His mom’s fast asleep in the bed next to him, so he’s careful not to make a noise as he takes his phone and a pair of earbuds from his bedside table and goes to Youtube.

 _Yuzuru Hanyu Worlds 2017 SP_ , he types into the search bar. Instantly, the results pop up. He chooses a video with no commentary, and watches. He doesn’t blink. It’s weird seeing it from the camera’s angle instead of his own. 

But it feels just as bad, whether he’s on the performing or watching side. When the score comes up on screen, he’s reminded again of just how much his flaws cost him. After the video ends, he lies there, staring into the dark. Repugnance convulses in his gut, leaching through his bloodstream into every pore in his skin. It feels awful. Yet, transfixed by the feeling of wallowing in his own failure, he goes back to the glowing screen and clicks replay. Watches again. Soaks it in. Replays. Repeat. Again and again and again, until his head is swarming with so much horror and frustration that he has to put his phone down and bite his tongue to keep from screaming out loud. 

The pitch black of the air seems to warp, distorting into a million fractals of grotesque noise and colour. The digital clock on the bedside table flashes two-thirty AM in blinding neon green numbers. The hotel room feels too hot, too dark, and downright claustrophobic. Yuzuru struggles to breathe. He hopes he’s not having an asthma attack, and reaches for his inhaler even though he knows that there’s nothing that could be triggering one. With alarm, he notes that his hands are shaking.

He clenches his fists. _Get a grip get a grip get a grip get a-_

But he can't contain his thoughts any longer. Some primal instinct inside of him is springing to life, ringing all the alarm bells, threatening to tip him over the edge of a bottomless pit. It screams at him to _get out, get out right now or else._

In the dark, he scrambles out of bed, tugs on a pair of shoes, grabs a key card, and slips out into the hallway. He doesn’t bother to put anything over the t shirt and boxers that serve as his pyjamas; nobody else is going to be outside anyways.

The hotel hallway is, indeed, empty, and no one is there to witness a boy heading towards the balcony, leaning on the wall for support as he stumbles forward and gasps for air like a fish out of water. His fingers struggle to grip the handle of the balcony door. After much struggle, he finally manages to pry it open. 

_Thud._ The door swings shut behind him.

As Yuzu lurches out onto the balcony, the first thing that he notices is the cold. It’s March in Finland, after all, and the temperature is in the low single digits. Upon stepping outside, the sheen of sweat covering his skin instantly evaporates. A howling wind tears through his thin sleep shirt, chilling him to the bone. A shiver rips involuntarily down his spine. 

Luckily, the cold also helps to jolt him back to his senses.

What is he _doing?_ He has practice later today. He should be sleeping. He’ll catch hypothermia or something if he stays out in this cold.

But below his balcony, Helsinki is alight with glowing windows and streetlights. The lights blink hypnotizingly like a million scattered stars.

Despite logic urging him to return to his senses, Yuzuru’s instincts tell him to stay. He listens for a moment, then decides. He’ll go back to his hotel room in a minute, he reasons, just after he takes a quick look. 

With that, he walks closer to the edge of the balcony. It’s a small balcony for a small hotel, just about large enough to fit two people; which is to say, Yuzu has a lot of room to spread his hands on the railing to brace himself as he looks. He takes a slow, deep breath. Despite it being the dead of night, Helsinki still swims with life and light: cars busily zip down roads, people traverse the streets, and brilliant lights stretch in every which way, from inland to the harbour. The sky is deep lavender- so dark, it's nearly black- layered by sheets of frothy muted rose and ultramarine clouds. From a distance away filters the low rushing noise of cars on roads. Squares and rectangles and circles of black are buildings that are already asleep, dotted with red and yellow and white and blue lights. A glimmering stripe of lights glitters in the skyline. It’s stunning, truly. Ethereal. Elating. A manmade galaxy glimmers in Helsinki tonight. 

But Yuzuru can’t help but feel isolated amidst the beauty surrounding him. Like he’s living in his own cocoon. Tunnel vision, once again. He’s used to this feeling of loneliness. After all, it’s partially due to it that he’s able to produce the kind of performance he wants on the ice. But tonight, it feels like every negative thing that has ever tried to take him down throughout his life- fears, worries, doubts, trauma- is back, digging ferociously into his skin like an anchor, determined to sink him. 

Despite the cold, he begins to sweat again. The walls in his mind are closing in, and he is tired, _so tired_ , of holding them apart.

Knees buckling, he slides to a seat, leaning his back against the balcony railing. His eyes burn, and he closes them. He hugs his knees to his chest like a little boy. His fingers are numb and skin is freezing, but he can’t find the strength to move. Hopelessness, it turns out, tastes a lot like frigid night air burning its way down his throat.

The balcony door creaks.

Yuzu’s eyes snap open.

A dark figure slips through the door and stands before him. A man, wearing a jeans and a jacket. It’s too dark to see his face. 

Yuzuru’s heart leaps into his throat. In a flash, he’s standing up, looking around for an escape route off the balcony.

The man steps forwards out of the shadows of the balcony awning. Diffusions of streetlights and window lights from below paint his face into visibility. Wide, dark eyes. Close-cropped curly brown hair.

 _Oh._ Yuzu breathes a sigh of relief (among other emotions), his wild imagination screeching to a halt.

It’s Javier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Chapter 9, _finit!_ In case you didn't see the "Part 1" written in the chapter name, yes, this scene is split into two chapters. Yes, the next chapter will involve Yuzu and Javi alone on the dark balcony. Get ready.
> 
> As for a bit of an update on my personal life, summer school is starting for me tomorrow! Unfortunately, this means that I have less time to write and edit, so updates may have longer intervals in between. Nevertheless, I am determined to continue to the best of my ability, so don't worry too much!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will still be in Yuzu's POV!


	10. Late Night Balcony Overture Part 2

“Yuzuru?” Javi frowns, walking closer. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Yuzu replies.

“I, um,” the Spaniard splutters, taken aback, “I’m getting some fresh air. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me, too.”

Javi’s gaze slides up and down the Japanese boy’s body. 

Involuntarily, Yuzuru shivers. Must be the cold. 

Javi raises his eyebrows at the pyjama shirt and boxers, but says nothing. He approaches Yuzu, taking off his jacket and offering it. 

Yuzu shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

“Don’t be silly.” Javi’s arms encircle Yuzu’s torso as he slides the jacket, warm from his body heat, over Yuzu’s shoulders. For a second, it appears as if he’s going to keep standing there, chest to chest with him, but he sidesteps and stands at the railing instead, assuming the position that Yuzu had been in minutes ago. 

Yuzu stands up and joins him. Their breath condenses in the chilly air, two clouds of intermingling white.

In the dark, Javi stares out at the city. In turn, Yuzu stares at Javi. 

All is quiet. Then:

“Congratulations on your short,” Yuzu finally utters. 

There it is. He’s broken the silence. The longstanding silence. Truth is, he can’t stop himself from talking to Javi anymore. His drained, sleep-deprived, two-in-the-morning brain simply isn’t strong enough. It’s easier to just give in to what his heart wants. And damn, does it feels good.

There’s a smile in Javi’s voice, and it warms Yuzu to the bone. “Thank you.” A pause. “And, Yuzuru, don’t worry about yours. Maybe it was not a good day for you.” 

Yuzu grimaces. “I wanted to skate clean, so badly. I feel like- like… I disappointed everyone. Like all that practice, hard work, it was for nothing. This worlds… so important. And my performance make everyone unhappy.”

Javi nods slowly. “I know what you mean. I see you, everyday, giving it your best. You practice so hard, Yuzu. And it’s so disappointing when you can’t show that in your skate.”

Yuzu nods. Then, to his horror, he feels a lump form his throat. _Oh no._ A monsoon threatens from behind his eyelids. No. No. He will _not_ cry. In an effort to distract himself, he looks far out over the balcony. But unshed tears blur the twinkling lights. He holds his breath, feeling the bitterness building.

_Keep it together keep it together keep it together-_

But he can’t. He’s exhausted. Drained to the core in every aspect.

And he’s going to lose Worlds, isn’t he? The thought of it crushes him. He has no strength left to fight back when despair seizes him by the neck, strangling him. When hopelessness claws a gaping hole through his abdomen. When misery freezes the blood rushing through his veins. A yawning abyss has opened up before his feet, and for all his fear and panic, he does not know how to stop advancing towards it.

So he falls. He falls and falls and falls. And when he finally hits rock bottom, it shatters him.

The only lucky thing is that it’s dark enough that Javi probably can’t see the tears when they start spilling down his cheeks.

“Yuzuru.” It’s Javi, looking at him with concern.

As it turns out, all luck has abandoned Yuzuru today.

Hastily, he wipes at his eyes.

“I know there’s probably nothing I can say to make you feel better,” Javi says softly, furrowing his brow, “Trust me, I know how you feel right now. I’ve been there.”

Yuzu turns away from him and stares out off the balcony. The city lights turn into a kaleidoscopic mess as tears flood his vision. He doesn’t blink, lets them stream freely. At least he’s not sobbing.

“I- I just-” Suddenly, Javi turns and puts a hand on Yuzuru’s face. His thumb gently brushes away the tears. “I want to help you. How do I help you?”

Yuzu’s afraid to look at him- afraid to let Javi see what he’s really like when he loses control- but he meets eyes with the other boy anyways. The tenderness in Javi’s gaze instantly turns his knees into jelly. 

“How do I help you?” Javi says again. A whisper.

Yuzu closes his eyes and sucks in a tremulous breath. Once again, his head and heart are at war. Why is Javier always doing that to him? Making a battleground of him?

This time is different from all the rest, though. This time, his heart wins. It whispers in his ear like a devil on his shoulders, telling him exactly what to do. 

He listens. 

Then, agrees.

He knows he’ll regret this, later. He knows he’ll hate himself.

But it’s a dark night in Helsinki, and it’s just the two of them alone on a balcony, and he can’t really think straight right now, and Javi’s looking at him like he’s something precious, something breakable that he’s willing to do anything to fix, and, in fact, Yuzu’s pretty sure that he _will_ do anything that Yuzu asks him to do. And that’s all that Yuzu needs. It’s everything that he needs.

Javi is everything that he needs.

And that terrifies him more than anything.

Yuzuru opens his eyes. Takes a shaky breath.

Slowly, he takes Javi’s other hand, the one that’s not currently brushing away his tears, and he places on the other side of his face. Javi’s eyes widen, his hands trembling slightly, but he doesn’t move away. He stands strong.

Yuzuru takes a step forwards, closing the distance between them until their chests are brushing. He reaches up, hesitates. And then, he throws caution to the wind. 

He intertwines his fingers in Javi’s hair. Tilts his head up. He can feel Javi’s heart thudding through the clothes that separate them.

They are so close. Breathing the same air.

_How do you help me?_

_This is how._

“Kiss me,” he says. 

_This is how._

Javier needs no further encouragement.

Their lips meet. 

And then, Yuzuru’s heart is falling, falling, falling right off of the balcony they’re standing on.

Javi tastes of peppermint, aftershave, and cold night air. His kisses come slow and sweet, like he’s savouring each of them. Yuzu can’t say the same for himself, though. He’s dimly aware of himself losing control, of gasping and sucking and biting. Hungry. Yearning. Unwilling to wait any longer, after having practiced inhumane amounts of self-control for years. Now that he’s finally, _finally_ kissing Javier, it’s a complete mystery to him how he’s managed to control himself for this long.

Shuddering, he opens his mouth. A million live sparks explode. Unpredictable, brilliant blinding shards of light. Exulting. Intoxicating. Javi gasps, then groans softly. Tongues and teeth meet. His hands move from Yuzuru’s face to roam his hair, his neck, his chest, his back… Yuzu does the same, recklessly exploring the planes of Javi’s body. Blood roars in his ears, drowning out all noises except the sound of their kissing and breathing. Both of them can barely see in the darkness, but touch is enough. 

As Javi’s hands settle at his waist, pulling their hips firmly together, Yuzu decides that yes, touch is definitely enough.

_God,_ he think as they pull back from a kiss. Constellations shiver as they meet again. _I have really been missing out._

Javi suddenly gives a low growl and moves his lips from Yuzu’s mouth to kiss a trail along his jaw. Then down his neck. Gasping, Yuzuru arches his neck back. His mind goes blank. His hands curl up in Javi’s hair, hugging them close. Closer still, as Javi opens his mouth against his skin. It’s spine-tingling, mind-numbing, heart-pounding. Yuzuru can’t seem to catch a gulp of air. 

But for once, he doesn’t mind the breathlessness.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They stay there for a very long time. Exactly how long, Yuzu can’t say. All he knows is that the last kiss comes way too soon.

“Yuzu,” Javi says, caressing his face. He pulls back and looks at Yuzuru with such softness that the Japanese boy thinks he might just melt into a puddle right then and there. Instead of doing that, though, Yuzu dives in for another kiss. Javi tries to protest, saying something about them having practice tomorrow, but is rapidly overcome. He sighs half-happily, half-exasperatedly, and stops trying to talk.

But a few minutes later, he pulls back again. His hands slide down from Yuzu’s face, trailing lightly over his chest and waist before gripping his wrists. 

“Yuzu. We have practice tomorrow.”

“I know,” Yuzuru replies. He deftly slides his wrists out of Javi’s grip and clasps their fingers together instead, pressing their palms together. He guides their hands towards his waist and places Javi’s hands there, unwilling to give up the other boy’s touch.

Javi shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Don’t you want to rest before practice?”

“I want to… kiss you.” Before Javi can object, Yuzu stands on his tiptoes and plants a long, languid kiss on his neck.

A frustrated groan comes from Javi. “Yuzuru, _please_.”

Yuzu draws back, then. Looks down at the ground. A rush of something resembling guilt weighs him down as he realizes that maybe Javi is tired. After all, he supposes, the world champion probably needs his rest. He takes a step back so that Javi’s hands fall from his waist. 

“Yeah-” he clears his throat- “Um. Okay. Let’s sleep.”

He sneaks a look at Javi from under his eyelashes, and sees that the Spanish boy has buried his face in his hands.

“Javi? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Nothing.” Javi lifts his head up, and Yuzu is crushed by relief to see that he’s smiling. Absolutely _beaming,_ like a ray of sunshine. “I’m good. Very, very good. Yuzu, I-”

Yuzu looks at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

But he never does. Just grins even brighter, shakes his head, and reaches forwards for Yuzuru’s hands. “Okay. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” Javi leads him through the balcony door and down the dark hallway. They walk past closed doors, hand in hand, carefree in the blanket of darkness.

_Wait._

Did Javi say _let’s_ go to bed? As in the two of them? Together? Yuzu’s mouth suddenly goes dry. 

But it quickly becomes apparent that that is not what Javi has in mind. The Spaniard stops before Yuzuru’s hotel room, stifling a yawn. He really must be tired. Yuzu isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, and doesn’t say anything as he unlocks his hotel room. Within, his mom is still sleeping, so he makes sure to step inside with utmost silence. Once in, he turns back to say goodnight to Javi.

“Goodnight.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast.” 

The sound of Javi’s voice whispering in the pitch black sends tingles shooting down Yuzuru’s spine. He closes his eyes, soaking it in. “See you.”

“Wait. Yuzuru-” Javi’s eyes suddenly glint, and he reaches forwards to tilt Yuzu’s chin up. They kiss one last time, and Yuzu sighs into it with pleasure. The sparks are still there when they separate. “Goodnight,” Javi says at last.

Yuzu watches him go down the hall until he disappears into the elevator. Then, he quietly closes his hotel room door and leans his forehead against it, breathing heavily and grinning like an idiot. The consequences of his actions have yet to dawn on him. He’s probably lost his mind. No, scratch that. He’s _definitely_ lost his mind. But he doesn’t care about that, or any other ramifications of his actions. For the night, he can pretend it was just a kiss. A wonderful kiss. And nothing more.

Before Yuzuru falls asleep, one train of thought keeps going through his mind. 

It’s unfair, really. Not only has Javier Fernandez taken two gold medals from the world championships from Yuzuru, he has also stolen his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... 
> 
> That happened.
> 
> :)


	11. TCC Team Breakfast

Breakfast the next morning is an interesting affair. 

Javi hadn’t fallen asleep for a long while even after he had returned to his room last night, instead spending something like an hour lying awake covering his face with his hands and smiling at the ceiling, feeling like his heart was going to fly right out of his chest. It couldn’t be helped. Yuzuru Hanyu just tended to have that effect on him. Despite the sleeplessness, though, Javi wakes up early. As he gets dressed and makes his way down to the hotel restaurant for a Toronto Cricket Club team breakfast, he doesn’t even find himself craving his usual coffee. Turns out, kissing is a good substitute for caffeine.

When he gets down to the restaurant, Yuzu is already sitting there (early bird, as usual), conversing with Elizabet Tursynbaeva. Their mothers chat with one another, sitting separated from their children at a nearby table- Brian’s made it a rule that team breakfasts are for skaters and coaches only. As for Brian himself, and Tracy, there is no sign of either coach yet. Just as well; this way, there’s more time for Javier to talk to Yuzu before both of them have to immerse themselves fully into training mode. 

As soon as Javi walks into the vicinity, Yuzu immediately looks his way. He meets eyes with Javi. Though his expression is difficult to read, by some miracle, he doesn’t look away.

Javi’s heart leaps as he realizes that he hadn’t just dreamt up last night. He breaks into a relieved smile.

Yuzuru returns it with one of his own, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes; it’s not two AM on a dark balcony anymore. His thoughts must be back on skating. Understandable. Javi, too, is getting ready to put his game face on. He first stops at the breakfast buffet to grab some food, then sits down beside Yuzuru and joins in on the conversation with Elizabet.

“I got 65.48 for my short,” Elizabet is saying. 

“Really?” Yuzuru grins. “That’s good!”

“You should be really proud of yourself, Elizabet,” Javi agrees.

Blushing, Elizabet accepts the compliments. Javi takes the opportunity to discreetly put a hand on Yuzu’s knee under the table. At this, Yuzu freezes for a split second, staring at Javi with wide eyes. Javi looks back to make sure it’s okay that he’s touching him. Yuzu softens, nodding subtly and giving a hint of a smile. The tips of his ears are flushed. It’s cute.

Elizabet narrows her eyes, looking the two up and down.

Coughing, Javi hastily asks, “So, how are you guys planning to spend your vacation?” 

“Vacation?” Yuzu sounds like he’s never heard the word before.

“Practicing violin,” responds Elizabet, the suspicion momentarily sliding from her face, “All I’ve been doing is skating, I can hardly remember what playing music feels like anymore.”

“You play the violin?” Javi asks.

“Yes, professionally. And the piano. I attended a music school in Moscow before I moved to Toronto.” She sounds quite proud of the fact.

Javi raises his eyebrows. He’d known that Elizabet had lived in Moscow previously, but not that she was some classical music prodigy. 

“Wow, very talented,” says Yuzuru.

“Thank you,” she replies with a neat bob of her head. 

“What about you, Yuzu?” says Javi, “What are you going to do after Worlds?”

Tilting his head, Yuzu furrows his brow and thinks for a second. Then: “Hmm… World Team Trophy. Maybe.”

Javi can’t help but snort. “I ask what your off season plans are, and you reply with another competition. Never change, Yuzu, never change.”

Yuzuru smiles sunnily. 

“Lucky,” Elizabet pouts, “Kazakhstan doesn’t get to go to World Team Trophy.”

Javi shakes his head. “Neither does Spain.”

A corner of Yuzuru’s mouth quirks up. “You could join my team. Javier Fernandez from Japan.” His eyes sparkle.

Javi stares at him for a second, not comprehending. His brain races to put this and that together. 

Is Yuzu being suggestive? Is he implying that if Javi married him, he’d be Japanese? (Oh, God, what an implication _that_ would be.) Is that even how Japanese citizenship works? Javi’s fairly certain that’s _not_ how Japanese citizens works. But then what could Yuzuru be talking abou-

Suddenly, a light bulb switches on in his head. _Oh!_ Javi bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, Yuzuru, I can’t believe you remember that.”

Yuzu’s smile widens until he’s positively beaming.

“Remember what?” Elizabet pipes.

“At the small medal ceremony in Shanghai, world championships 2015, the MC accidentally introduced me as ‘Javier Fernandez from Japan’,” Javi explains, still laughing, “Yuzu was there beside me and later he turned to me and said ‘I’m from Spain’.” He faces Yuzuru. “I seriously can’t believe you still remember that.”

Yuzu’s eyes crinkle. “It was funny.”

Javi doesn’t say anything back, just shakes his head. He can barely believe that Yuzu is being so talkative after going so long without a single word. Maybe after what happened last night, Yuzu’s on the path to thawing out. _Maybe_ , Javi thinks as he looks out the window at the ultramarine sky and fresh green grass springing up on lawns, _maybe winter is coming to an end_. He can barely believe that he’s not dreaming. But hey, he’ll take it- carpe diem and all that. 

And Yuzu is right about Shanghai- it _had_ been funny. And strange. And exciting. 2015 was the first year that Javi had been crowned world champion. He’d taken the title from Yuzuru himself, in fact. A trade of crowns. Yuzu had won just about everything under the sun in the 2013-2014 season, but his reign over Worlds was short-lived. There had been… complications during the 2014-15 season. Javi still gets sick to his stomach thinking about the Cup of China and what it meant for Yuzuru afterwards. But when he looks back on his own track record for that year, it’s not bad. Silver at the Grand Prix Final, third consecutive European title, first gold at Worlds.

And just like that, once again, he’s reminded of how much things have changed. This year, he’s just claimed his fifth European title. But there had been no Grand Prix Final medal, not even a bronze. It had been the first time since Sochi that he had failed to make a podium- and it had been a major one, too. He can’t help but worry that it’s an omen that his time has passed. Nathan Chen and Shoma Uno, who’d stolen up the ranks at the GPF last December, are young and full of jumps, jumps, jumps. Either of them could medal here at Worlds. On the other hand, Javi is no spring chicken at twenty-five. He stares at the table, suddenly solemn, trying to reconcile reality with his worries.

“Are you okay?”

Broken out of his reverie, Javi looks at Yuzu. 

And then his gaze slides down under the table at Yuzu’s hand, which is now suddenly resting on top of his own. His heart skips a beat. Dazed for more reasons than one, he replies, “Um… yeah. Yeah. I’m okay. Just blanked out for a second. Where did Elizabet go?” While he was reminiscing about the Grand Prix Final, the tiny girl seems to have disappeared from her seat.

“Getting food.” Yuzu follows Javi’s gaze to stare at their hands. He suddenly seems to change his mind about something, and starts to pull away.

 _Wait._ Javi grabs the Japanese boy’s hand. Then, he interlocks their fingers before Yuzuru can protest. 

Yuzu stiffens slightly, surprised. Relaxes, once he gets used to the feeling of Javi's hand against his. He looks at Javi with dark eyes that are somehow even more alluring in broad daylight in the middle of a restaurant than they were last night on a dark, secluded balcony. Javi swallows. Realizes that it’s no wonder he shows up late to practice all the time- he’s spending all of his self control restraining himself around Yuzuru.

“Sorry,” Yuzu says.

Javi doesn’t bother asking _what for?_ anymore. “Don’t be.”

“What are you think about?”

“You know, things.” Javi laughs lightly, then hangs his head. “Um, the Grand Prix Final, actually.”

“Oh.” 

Javi doesn’t have to explain himself any further. After all, Yuzu himself is no stranger to the bitter taste of not making the podium- just yesterday, he had watched as Javier, Shoma Uno, and Patrick Chan received their short program medals. He’d even had a literal front-row seat to it.

“I know I shouldn’t be that worried. I got a personal best yesterday,” Javi laughs, but it comes out hoarse.

“It’s hard… not worry. You can’t guess what will happen on ice.”

Javi diverts his gaze to the floor. He doesn’t know what’s up with him. Usually, he’s able to keep his emotions under control and out of the way. He’s cool-headed. Collected. Why can’t he just keep it together today?

“But you can do it. Javi. Remember what you said to me after my short?” Yuzuru’s voice is quiet, but firm. “‘I believe in you.’ You said that.”

Javi nods. He remembers.

“Well, _I_ believe in _you,_ Javier Fernandez.”

Javi tightens his fingers around Yuzu’s. His heart thrums, then melts. Yuzuru may not be able to take away all of his worries, but he is someone who understands. And sometimes, that’s all a person needs. “You know, Yuzu, they don’t call you Mister Congeniality for no reason.”

“Mister… what?”

“Nothing.” Javi shakes his head fondly, gratefully. “Just- thank you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The blush in Yuzu’s ears is now spreading to his cheeks. It’s irresistible. _You and your cute face are really testing the limits of my self control right now,_ Javi thinks. He can’t help but lean in to press his forehead against the other boy’s for a quick second. Yuzu looks up in a flash, but Javi’s already drawn back. They hold each other’s gazes. Something redolent of last night’s electricity crackles between them.

“So,” Javi ventures- joking now, but his mouth’s dry, “How did you sleep last night?”

Yuzu smiles. “Um, not that good.” He laughs.

Javi chuckles. “Me neither.” His hand lifts from Yuzu’s knee and goes to his waist instead, pulling him closer. To his delight, Yuzu doesn’t try to move away, and instead leans his shoulder against Javi’s.

“I guess we’re going to have a lot of fun at practice today, right?” Yuzu banters.

Javi lets out a laugh. “So much fun. I’m looking forwards to watching you fall asleep in the middle of doing a Biellmann spin.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see you fall asleep doing a quad sal.”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s this about falling asleep?” 

Seemingly having materialized out of nowhere, Brian sits down across from them and clasps his hands together on top of the table. Tracy sits beside him, watching the two male skaters with a keen light in her eye. 

Instantly, Yuzu and Javi spring apart.

Javi coughs. “Nothing, Brian.”

“Just kidding,” Yuzu supplies helpfully.

“I would hope you’re just kidding. No sleeping in practice.” Brian shoots his pupils extremely pointed looks.

Javi exchanges an uneasy glance with Yuzu. Just how much of their conversation have the coaches heard? Meanwhile, Yuzu’s gaze travels the table some ways away from them, where his mom and Elizabet’s mom are still chatting up a storm. 

Javi’s face instantaneously turns into a flaming tomato. To think, he’s been trying to woo Yuzuru right under his own mother’s nose… 

“How is everyone feeling for the free skate?” Brian asks just as Elizabet returns.

“Good,” Elizabeth replies, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Focussed,” Yuzuru says.

“A little nervous,” Javi admits, trying to mentally coerce his face into returning to its normal colour, “But I’m alright.”

Brian and Tracy nod at one another, sharing a knowing look that can only be exchanged between coaches. “Good, good,” Brian says, “You’re all right where you’re supposed to be. Concentrating, right?”

A round of nods from the skaters.

“Good, good. Now, be proud of yourselves for having gotten this far. You've all worked extremely hard. Forgive your mistakes, and learn from them. Celebrate your achievements, and learn from those, too. It’s all part of the process.” Brian leans in. “The short program is behind us. It’s over. We can’t change what happened.”

Javi sneaks a glance at Yuzu in his peripheral vision, but the other boy shows no sign of reaction.

“All our attention going forwards is going to be on the free…” continues Brian. He and Tracy go on to discuss strategies for the free skate. Then, they end the meeting with one final reminder for Javier, Yuzuru, and Elizabet: to just enjoy skating.

“At the end of the day, that’s what’s most important,” says Tracy, “It’s why we’re all here, and it’s the reason why we’ve been able to get here. Don’t forget to enjoy it.”

Javi feels their message resonating deep within him. Here, in Helsinki, figure skating history will be made. But so will individual memories. His hand bumps into Yuzu’s under the table, and a series of electric sparks fly up through his fingers. _Don’t forget to enjoy it._

Whether ‘it’ is the skating, the adoration from the fans, or the company of a particular devastatingly cute Japanese boy, Javi knows that he will heed his coaches’ words and enjoy it to the last drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 has arrived. I hope you all enjoyed! As always, kudos, comments, and feedback are very much appreciated.
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, in Yuzu's POV!


	12. After The Last Practice

The last practice before the men’s free skate is being held in the very aptly dubbed ‘Cave’. Built under Hartwall arena, The Cave is exactly what its name suggests: an underground chamber of hollowed-out stone. White spans in every which direction, from the walls to the ice to the ceiling. The seating is scant, so only a few members of the press get to watch in on practices. It is so cold that, upon walking in, one would almost expect to see icicles hanging from the roof rafters and from the noses of the poor, freezing photographers and journalists.

In short, it sets a very suitable mood for the last practice. Minds and bodies are laser-sharp, eyes gleaming like freshly polished ice as each competitor speeds around the rink. A figurative snowstorm broods on the horizon.

The run throughs are standard, or at least Yuzu thinks his own is. A few unsuccessful jumps leave him on edge, but overall, his practice goes smoothly. As for the rest of the competitors in this final group, he is not sure. He doesn’t see them at all, though they’re skating right next to him. Tunnel vision, check.

(Okay, one exception. He does see Javier. Every time he turns, every time he blinks. But _that’s_ a different story altogether.)

After practice ends, the top six men gather in the changeroom to collect their things before going off to do their individual preparations for the actual event later. Yuzu and Shoma exchange a few words of encouragement, but other than that, Yuzu doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s unusual of him to be this quiet, this uneager to spare even a smile to those around him, but the circumstances themselves are, in his opinion, not of the usual calibre. This is the year he’s supposed to win. This is the year he _will_ win. By any and all means necessary.

These men are all his opponents, and he does not have time or effort to expend on pleasantries with them at the moment. He’ll allow himself to do that after the gold medal is hanging from his neck.

Javi, on the other hand, is his usual amiable self. He and Patrick Chan, a couple of regular veterans, clap one another on the back. The Spaniard also takes some time ruffling Shoma’s hair before the younger boy ducks away, and then squeezes in some small talk with Nathan Chen and Boyang Jin. The only one Javi doesn’t acknowledge is Yuzu, but he keeps looking in his direction as if he’s trying to pluck up the courage to approach him.

Yuzuru knows all this because he spends the whole time in the changeroom inconspicuously snatching glimpses of Javi out of the corner of his eye. His heartbeat races a little more with each look- but not for the same reasons that it had pounded so fervently last night. 

Since the team breakfast ended, he’s been doing a lot of thinking. 

So much so that some would even call it _over_ thinking.

And that’s always great news, isn’t it?

After a while, all the other men have emptied from the changeroom. Only Yuzu and Javier are left. They don’t speak. It’s a game of waiting, waiting, waiting, to see who will make the first move this time. Tension so thick you could take a bite out of it connects the two like a tautly suspended rope. 

Yuzu wonders what is going through Javi’s mind. Then, he thinks about what he’s about to do to him. Dread ties a knot in his stomach. 

It’s silent for a while longer, the only sounds coming from the far-away dripping of a leaking tap and the closing of duffel bag zippers. And then, there are footsteps as Javi stands up and walk over to Yuzu. The bench dips as the Spaniard takes a seat. 

The first move has been made.

Immediately, Yuzuru’s mind starts going a mile a minute. 

He knows what he has to do. What he has to say. He’s been planning it out ever since the morning after the breakfast, when the full girth of his actions had finally hit him.

The truth is, the regret is killing him. 

The kiss had been a colossal mistake. It shouldn’t have happened. Reality has finally hit home, and it’s eating Yuzuru from the inside out. How could he have been so irresponsible? After spending the entire year building up his resistance, painstakingly crafting walls and barriers that were supposed to keep him safe, he had failed to keep his heart locked in during the most crucial moment. Failed. Miserably. 

Just thinking about the kiss brings bile rising in his throat. The way he had let himself become so vulnerable, so weak, and then given into temptation as if it was nothing. Pathetic.

Javi had just been trying to offer help, probably meaning some athlete-to-athlete advice or something, but Yuzu had gone and taken it as an invitation to instigate a _kiss_ , of all things. A kiss, after so long without so much as a single word, after being a completely and utter jerk for months. Now, that was just unfair to Javi.

And stupid of Yuzu. So, so stupid. 

And now, because of his stupidity, both of them are at dangerous imbalances, overflowing with emotions and urges and intrusive thoughts that will surely affect their performances. Just take the team breakfast as an example- they were practically making out right under the noses of their coaches and Yuzuru’s mother! 

Yuzu isn’t just going to stand there and take it, though. He’s thought everything through in utmost detail, and synthesized the solution that’s going to work best for him. He’s going to employ the strategy that has kept him on the podium with no less than silver at every competition he’s been to this season. It’s effective, fast.

It’ll also hurt like hell, he reckons, but it’s necessary. 

And it's time to put it into motion.

Abruptly, he stands up and moves away from Javi.

The other boy looks up, surprised at his sudden reaction.

 _What? Had you been expecting affection from me?_ Yuzuru wants to ask him. Sneer at him. 

He wants to be cruel and cold, to emulate the ice which has made him both its king and its slave. _This_ is the only way he knows to protect himself from dangerous feelings. From Javi.

This is what he has to do.

But ever the adamant one, Javi simply stands up and faces Yuzuru. His face is open and vulnerable. Yuzuru’s breath catches in his throat at the way that Javi lays his feelings out so plainly and trustingly. And then it catches again, as Javi reaches forwards and takes his hands.

“Hey, you okay?”

Not answering, Yuzu holds his breath and reminds himself what he has to do. What his only choice is, at this point. What fatal flaw it is that is, ultimately, forcing his hand:

His selfishness. 

He’s selfish, alright? Nobody knows his flaws better than himself, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit this. The media and his fans like to paint him up as some sort of god, some sort of saint, someone to aspire to be. But as much as he appreciates their support and trust, they’re very, very wrong about him in many ways.

The selfishness, for one. He hates that this is one of the most important things about himself. Nothing is a better reminder of this than 2011- when his country needed him the most, he made the decision to keep skating instead of finding some more tangible way to help. Sure, he did some charity skating shows, but the reality was- and still is- that Yuzuru Hanyu skates for himself. For the fulfillment of his own dreams and desires. The Olympic gold hangs in his own house, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t perform as he wants to tonight. He will always have his own interest at heart, and he wishes that he was more giving, more willing to put others above himself, but he’s just not.

He’s selfish. 

For wanting Javier the way that he does.

For having kissed him.

For letting Javi break his heart and for breaking _his_ , over and over and over again.

He’s selfish. 

For doing what he’s about to do right now.

He takes a huge step back, forcefully shaking Javi off. Surprise recolours the other boy’s face, quickly followed by hurt.

“Yuzu?”

Clenching his fists, Yuzuru closes his eyes. Slams the bars down over his heart. Tell it to stay there and to never tempt him again. When he opens his eyes and looks like Javi, his glare is deadly enough to put an entire arena of people into their graves.

“Stay away from me.”

Javi blinks. “Sorry?”

 _Don’t make this any harder than it already is._ Yuzuru steps up so he’s centimetres away from Javi. He needs him to not only see and hear, but to _feel_ his message.

“Come on.” Javi reaches for Yuzu’s waist, gently pulling him in. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Longtime reflexes kick in. Yuzuru is familiar with the feeling of shutting Javier out. Has it down pat, like science. 

He pulls his arms back, and then shoves Javi in the chest. 

Not expecting the blow, Javi falls backwards. His hands are jerked from Yuzu’s waist. He stumbles back until his spine hits a wall.

Yuzu grits his teeth to prevent himself from wincing. “I said… stay away from me.”

Breathing heavily, Javi braces both hands against the wall at his back and stares at Yuzu. His expression switches from shock, to hurt, to the beginnings of understanding. It’s deafeningly quiet as he regains his composure; the dripping of the faraway tap increases in volume until it sounds like each drop of water is a hundred-tonne boulder. Yuzu finds himself frozen in place, fingertips burning from where they came into contact with Javi’s chest. The moment replays itself in his mind, weighing him down so that he can no longer move. The shove. The flight. The look on Javi's face. The fall.

When Javi finally speaks, his voice is hollow. 

“I thought you were done with this.”

Yuzu has nothing to say.

“I thought… I thought you were finally letting me in. After Four Continents you were so- but then- I thought-” Javi’s voice grows louder as the understanding sets in more swiftly- “God, I’ve been such an idiot, haven’t I?”

The tap in the distances continues dripping, and Yuzu chooses to focus on that.

“Can you believe it?” Javi says, “Yuzuru. I thought- I actually thought, for a second, that I had a chance with you.”

The floor is cracking under Yuzu’s feet. The stark white walls and blinding lights of the changeroom begin to spin. His stomach drops to his feet.

“I see now. I get it. I was wrong.” Javi laughs, but it’s anything but happy. 

Yuzu’s heart rattles the bars of its prison, begging him to stop this. But he is made of stone. Unmovable. He begins to turn away. His feet are blocks of concrete.

“Just one thing.”

He pauses, turns back ever so slightly at Javi’s voice. 

The other boy’s eyes are as bright as city lights at two AM. Shining with stars.

He’s… crying?

“I just have one question,” Javi says.

Squaring his shoulders, Yuzu listens. It’s killing him, destroying him, shredding him to the core, but he’ll do this one last thing for Javi. This one last thing, he promises himself, and then he’s done.

“If this is how you really feel,” Javi says, “Then why-” his voice drops to a whisper- “Why did you do it? Why did you kiss me?”

 _No._

He can’t do it after all. Can’t answer this. 

Because honestly? He can’t remember why he kissed Javi. The balcony seems like a distant dream now, a fantasy that existed once upon a time in some alternate universe, with two different people. In _this_ life, Yuzuru Hanyu and Javier Fernandez are not meant to be together. In this life, Yuzuru Hanyu is on his own. And instead of dwelling on how much this reality is crushing him, Yuzu would rather just forget that anything had happened at all. Matters of the heart are much more complex than any number of quad jumps or step sequences, so he chooses the latter. His life’s complicated enough, even without Javier.

He turns his back again.

Javi stands there, waiting for his answer.

He’ll be waiting for a long time.

Never before has Yuzuru been so sorry in his life, but he gives no apology now. He just walks away out of the changeroom. Away from Javi. No last words. The door swings shut behind him. He doesn’t look back. The ground is a yawning pit and it's swallowing him alive.

He’s promised himself that he’ll do better. Be better. Become stronger, fight, and win. 

And as it turn out, battles will always have casualties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed the newest chapter of Trading Crowns!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be in Javi's POV.


	13. Awake

Javi’s sitting alone in his hotel room, staring out the window at the people below through a crack in the curtains. His eyes follow an elderly couple as they meander across the sidewalk; husband and wife, they have their arms looped affectionately together, and carry grocery bags. They are in no rush, simply enjoying the Saturday morning sunshine. Javi can’t see their faces, but he’s sure they must be happy. Most people would, staying in a place as beautiful as Helsinki. 

Regal, historic buildings rise from the ground like a kingdom of brick and stone, embellished with delicate spires and pleasingly geometric windows and walls; hundreds of umbrellas dot the harbour like freshly blooming poppies and marigolds; the sky above the closely compacted buildings of the city is a thousand-metre sculpted ceiling of white and silver silk clouds unrolling to reveal a canvas coated with luxurious lapis paint. Centuries of man-made artistry sit upon an ancient ground of natural bounty- all turquoise waters, trembling trees, lush green lawns. A combination that creates a most venerable sort of beauty.

Toronto has its own charms, but Javi feels more in his depth here, in Finland, a northern jewel of his native Europe and less than four hours away from his home country. The tongues spoken here are less like the colourful melting pot of languages found in Canada, a place where minorities from all over the world seem to take up the majority; Finnish and Swedish are the most commonplace vernaculars of Finland, and the consonants and vowels flow by Javi’s ears like a river of milk and honey. 

It’s not that he minds listening to (and, by extension, trying to decipher) a multitude of languages and accents. No, in fact, he loves how multicultural Toronto is. It’s one of his favourite things about his training base. Being able to hear and see all sorts of things from all sorts of places is exciting and enriching- like having the whole world on your doorstep. Only, it can get distracting during competitions. 

Which is why, Javi theorizes, he always places well at Euros. Something about the familiar environment that puts him at ease. Less things for him to think about, marvel at, question.

But not this time around. 

Helsinki has certainly been full of everything _except_ ease.

Drawing the curtain shut, Javi sighs. With no lights on in his room, all is dark. He’s hoping it’ll help him calm down a bit before the free skate. Which is- he checks his phone- in about an hour and a half. He should be headed to the arena soon. But his feet don’t seem to want to move.

After Yuzuru had walked out of the changeroom, Javi had stood there for a long while. For what, he wasn’t sure. Was he expecting Yuzu to come back? No, not really. Javi knew he wouldn’t be, not after all that he had said and done. The message had been clearer than clear: Javi was to stay away from him. They were finished- whatever ‘they’ had ever even been in the first place.

Still, this knowledge hadn’t stopped a tiny part of Javi’s heart from silently plaintively crying out for Yuzu to come back. He’d even imagined the scenario in his head for a split second. Yuzu would burst back in, full of regret and sorrow, and go straight into Javi’s arms. He would explain all that he was going through, all that was troubling him, as Javi hugged him close and stroked his hair. And then, Javi would apologize, even if he didn’t have to, to make Yuzu feel better. They would talk about it, about everything, and come up with a way to make things work together. 

Together. That was all that Javi wanted. And oh, how horribly he had wanted it as he had stood there in that changeroom alone.

But of course, it never came to pass.

 _Soñador_ , Javi’s mom likes to call him. Dreamer. His head has always been full of imaginings and hopes and fantasies, for as long as he can remember. It’s been a pain in the butt more than a handful of times, to have so many things he wants to do and accomplish, because along with big dreams comes doubt, fear, and high expectations. 

Luckily, though, it’s also paid off. His skating, for one. Two world championships, and gunning for a third. Not bad. 

But here was the flipside: he’d also briefly thought that Yuzu was maybe going to be another dream of his that would become reality. When he’d first started falling for his rinkmate, three years ago, he had put it down as a pipe dream. Stamped down the butterflies in his stomach that would come to life whenever he caught his rinkmate skating by out of the corner of his eye. Told himself it was just a trick of the light when he’d look up and see Yuzuru smiling at him and suddenly think that the Japanese boy was the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. Fought himself for so long on this, it had nearly _wrecked_ him to finally admit that, yeah, maybe he was a little in love with Yuzuru Hanyu.

Surely, Yuzu, who was so completely different from Javi that he almost seemed to come from a different planet, would never requite his feelings. But then, against all odds, he started to seem like he did, giving Javi everything from sunny smiles to suggestive, flirtatious glances, and opening up to the Spaniard in a way that he never seemed to do with anyone else. Then there was the plane ride to Boston, then the kiss on the hotel balcony. 

Against all the warnings of his wary heart, Javi had started getting hopeful. 

But his mom had always warned him to never expect to get back as much as you give. And along with her amazing paella, Javi’s mom was well-known for her words of wisdom.

If only he had listened to her more carefully.

He closes his eyes. Suddenly, he wants nothing more than to be at home, with his mother’s arms around him. Her soft words in his ears, soothing and encouraging just like they used to whenever he’d had a bad day at the rink. 

It’s been a small eternity since he last saw his mom, his family. He misses them so badly it’s hard to breathe.

But he’s Javier Fernandez. Bright, friendly, a comrade you can count on to always be at your side, strong and supportive. He’ll be fine. He’s always fine.

He hadn’t even said anything as Yuzu had gripped his heart with both hands and ripped it out of his chest. He’d just stood there in that changeroom and took it like it was nothing. Because he understands. Because even if he doesn’t understand, it’s his obligation to do all that’s in his power to take care of the people he cares about. 

He’s better at this than anything: containing the storms hurling about inside of him. Been training his whole life at it. Any hardships are just opportunities for him to spread more positivity to the people around him, the people he cares about, because that’s the kind of person he is. The kind who takes pain and turns it into kindness. That’s who Javier Fernandez is.

Except, just not right now.

He’s never experienced _this_ kind of pain before, see. This dull, throbbing ache that spreads all throughout his veins and leaches into every pore of his skin like poison. This exquisite agony stabbing his chest over and over as if seeking to impale his heart. 

_It’s not there anymore,_ he wants to tell the pain. _Someone took it from me._

He brushes his eyes with his fingertips and they come away wet. Well. So be it. Nothing’s ever felt this heavy before, this deserving of his tears and everything else as well. He can’t even think of skating now. He’ll just forget about the world championships. After all, what’s another gold medal next to what he actually wants more than anything- what he’ll never have?

The hotel room sits still. Air hangs drearily, waterlogged with the burden of one hurting soul. His coaches will be seeking him out at any second now, but Javi chooses to believe that the world has simply ceased turning. He doesn’t make a sound. An ocean streams down his cheeks. 

When he closes his eyes, it’s too easy to believe that he’s well and truly alone. 

And isn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13, what's good?
> 
> No, really, what's good? Kudos and feedback are, as per usual, very appreciated! Thanks to everyone who's stuck it through with Trading Crowns so far, your support is extremely treasured. I can't wait to bring you more of this story :)
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be in Yuzu's POV!


	14. April 1st, 2017

Brian looks more worried than usual. And that’s really saying something.

As Yuzuru tows his suitcase behind him and follows Brian and Tracy down the hotel stairs, he can tell that something’s wrong. The coaches keep giving each other perturbed glances, subtle and far in between enough that the average bystander wouldn’t be able to tell, but Yuzuru’s no average bystander. 

He feels a spark of anxiety, headier than the usual nerves, skitter against his temples. It is of utmost importance today that his support system is one hundred percent focussed and that everyone’s energies are being directed at helping him to produce the best performance possible. Although the performance itself will ultimately come down to Yuzuru himself, the people he depends on are major influences on his mental state going into it. So what exactly is eating at Brian and Tracy? 

Whatever it is, they’d better fix it soon. The men’s free skate in Helsinki is going to start in less than two hours.

Kikuchi-san stands beside him, holding his bag full of all the gear Yuzu might need in his warmup. Yumi is off to his other side, absently tapping a rhythm on Yuzu’s suitcase handle. The noise drives him to distraction, so he stuffs his earbuds in and starts blasting his pre-comp playlist. But just as the familiar sound of ONE OK ROCK begins pouring over his senses, Tracy walks in front of him and signals for him to take the earbuds out.

Biting back a grimace, he does so. 

“Yuzu, did you happen to see Javi as you were coming down?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“Huh.” Tracy’s gaze snaps to the watch on her wrist. “We tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail.”

Yuzu’s mind jumps back to the last time he’d seen Javi: at the last free skate practice, in the changeroom. _Drip, drip, drip_ goes the distant leaking faucet in his memory. Frowning, Yuzu wills the memory to vanish. If Javi’s too busy nursing his wounded pride to skate, then that’s his problem.

 _You’re being too harsh,_ chides a voice in his head. _Besides, it’s your fault that he's wounded at all. You should go look for him. Make sure he’s okay._

Upon hearing these thoughts, Yuzu is fairly sure he’s gone crazy. Go looking for Javi? To make sure he’s okay? After what he’s said and done?

“What’s his room number?” Brian is asking Tracy, who shakes her head.

Before he can think twice, Yuzu is speaking. “Three hundred sixteen.” And then his feet are moving to the elevator, and his mouth forming the words: “I’ll go get him.”

His mother stops tapping on the suitcase (he wonders, for the millionth time, how much she knows about, well, _everything_ ). “You can stay and let one of your coaches get him,” she says in Japanese, staring intently at him.

“It’s okay,” he replies. 

It’s really not okay. _This is it,_ he thinks, _I’ve really lost it now_.

Yumi raises her eyebrows but says nothing more.

“Thanks, Yuzu.” Tracy smiles. 

“Tell him to hurry. Worlds is no time to be late,” Brian says sternly.

In the elevator on the way to Javi's room, Yuzu pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, he's definitely lost it. He's crazy and totally aware of it- yet not trying to prevent himself from walking straight into insanity's grasp. Elevator music tinkles quietly in the empty elevator, amplifying the sheer incredulity of the circumstances. Yuzu wants to simutaneously laugh and cry, but settles for arranging his face into a stone-still mask.

Into battle it is.

\---------

He would’ve waited for longer at the door, but Yuzu is keeping very careful track of exactly how many minutes are left before the first man steps onto the ice today, and that number is not going to wait for him to get over his doubts. He strides right over to room three-sixteen and raps on it sharply with his knuckles.

There’s no response.

Quelling what must be his fiftieth wave of _oh-my-god-what-the-hell-am-I-doing_ , Yuzu closes his eyes and calls, “We have to go.”

After a brief silence, a shuffling sound comes from within the room. Equal parts of relief and dread eddy up in Yuzu’s stomach. _Get it together. You’re just here to get him downstairs._ He braces himself as the door creaks open from within.

Javi looks like a mess. Wearing nothing but a bathrobe, he leans heavily against the door as he looks at Yuzuru. His room is completely dark inside, as he’s drawn the curtains shut, and the colour nearly matches that of the bags beneath his red-rimmed eyes. For a moment, those eyes seem to register nothing. Then, as he realizes who is facing him, he practically leaps back.

Before Javi can say anything, Yuzu delivers his line. “Go downstairs. We’re waiting.”

“I-” Javi hesitates, looking down at his bathrobe-only ensemble. Yuzu does his best not to stare. “Uh, okay. I guess I’ll get dressed.” 

The door closes in Yuzuru’s face.

With a sigh, Yuzu steps back from the door and stares down at the carpet. 

What had Javi been doing in there? Why did he have the curtains drawn? And what was with the red eyes? 

Though Yuzu could perfectly well deduct what had been going on, he just didn’t want to believe it. This was the opposite of what he’d wanted.

He'd thought that calling things off with Javi would give them both headspace to concentrate better on the competition, but apparently not. Just look at Javi: alone and probably crying in his hotel room, seemingly having forgotten that the competition was happening at all. And here Yuzuru was, having to deal with the situation that he had been the very cause of. In the end, they’d ended up together again. Somehow, strangely, stupidly. 

It seems that no matter what Yuzu does, no matter what he says or thinks or plans, the universe wil always bring him back here. 

Back to Javier.

How utterly cruel of it.

After a few minutes, Javi comes out of his room. He’s dressed in his training gear, and holds his skate bag in his arms. He doesn’t speak to or look at Yuzuru as he heads to the elevator. 

For a split second, Yuzu seriously considers taking the stairs all the way down to the first floor just so he doesn’t have to be on an elevator with Javi (again!), but swiftly realizes how petty and immature that would be. Gritting his teeth, he follows the Spaniard into the elevator and does his best to completely zone out until they get to the lobby. It’s hard, though. He can’t stop thinking about the last time they were alone in an elevator together. 

Stomach churning, he tilts his head ever so slightly so peer at Javi.

The other man is staring straight ahead, his profile sharp and defined. He’s unfairly good-looking, really. Yuzu scrabbles at the barricades in his mind to keep them in place. It kills him a little bit inside to think about how those dark, expressive eyes and chiseled cheekbones belonged to him, once. 

Once.

Not anymore. And never again.

Unable to hold back a flinch, Yuzu looks away. His face flushes- he’s been staring, hasn’t he? Beside him, Javi clears his throat and readjusts his bag in his arms. And then it’s radio silence, absolute dead stillness, nothing but the electricity crackling soundlessly between them, until the elevator reaches its destination.

It's thirty seconds that span an eternity. The quietness reverberates with thousands of decibels of words unsaid. The space between them echoes of lost touches that could have been; caresses and soft brushing kisses that never were. Yuzu bites his tongue until he tastes blood in his mouth.

Upon them reaching the lobby, Brian and Tracy instantly pounce on Javi, asking him if he’s okay and why is he late and does he have all his things ready. Yumi passes the handle of Yuzu’s suitcase to him wordlessly, her eyes flickering between her son and the Spanish skater.

 _It’s nothing_ , he wants to tell her. Except that would be both a lie and also reveal that there is, in fact, something.

“Ready?” he says instead, directing it to everyone on his team. And they are. Brian and Tracy stop interrogating Javi, satisfied he’s all set, Kikuchi-san gives Yuzu a nod, and Yumi squeezes his arm supportively.

Taking a deep breath, he steps out into the brilliant morning sunshine.

It’s April 1st, 2017 in Helsinki, Finland. 

The men’s free skate starts soon. Scores will be settled, tears will be shed, and champions will be throned. 

History will be made. 

Yuzuru Hanyu is determined to be the one to make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this latest installment of _Trading Crowns_. I've been quite busy lately, and haven't had the time (or state of mind, really) to sit down and properly write in a while. I recently did my RCM Theory 8 Exam, got my first-ever job, aaaand published a book! Pretty exciting, isn't it?
> 
> To speak more about the book, it's an 154-page collection of poetry and original art all done by me. It's sorta my baby, and I'd absolutely love it if you took some time to check it out! You can go to this URL to find out more: https://yinuocheng.wordpress.com/my-book/
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will continue to be in Yuzury's POV!
> 
> (P.S. let's be social media mutuals!! I'm on Tumblr, Instagram, and Twitter, all @misterquadrupleaxel )


	15. And Everything Goes Wrong

Everything starts to go wrong as soon as they reach the arena.

As soon as the first draft of cold AC wind hits Yuzu as he’s walking through the doors, he feels his chest tightening. He keeps walking, brushing it off. The tightening is familiar, but he hopes to God that it’s not what he thinks it is.

(Later, he finds out that it’s _exactly_ what he thinks it is.) 

Before long, his mom leaves him to find her seat within the audience. She pulls him in for a brief hug, murmuring in his ear: “Good luck. But you won’t need it.” At this, he breaks into a small smile. After exchanging one last fist pump, mother and son separate, with Yuzu heading towards the warmup area with the coaches, Kikuchi-san, and Javier. 

With more than two hours left to spare before he’s to take the ice, Yuzu wonders why he still feels his chest tightening more and more with each passing minute. He’s never _not_ anxious for competitions, sure, but it hasn't manifested so drastically in physical form since his junior days, when he used to throw up before performing.

It gets to the point where he has to cop out of his warmup to give his lungs a break. He feels Brian, Tracy, and Kikuchi-san watching him like hawks, but mutters some excuse about having to go to the bathroom and gets away without any objections from them.

Half-jogging, half-limping to the men’s change room, Yuzu clutches at the front of his shirt. Alarmingly, he finds that it’s already damp with sweat. He’s barely exerted himself yet, why is he already perspiring? Shaking his head, he pushes the changeroom door open and goes to sit down on a bench. He puts his elbows on his knees and holds the sides of his head in his hands, staring down at the tiled floor. 

Shaky breath in, and out.

In, and out. 

That damned leaking faucet is dripping again. The sound drills into his head, making his vision blur in and out of focus. The floor tiles warp, turning into all different colours of the rainbow then back into black and white. Blinking hard, he focuses on trying to breathe. 

_Get a grip get a grip get a grip get a grip,_ he furiously commands himself breathlessly.

It’s so frustrating, honestly. If this is anxiety and it’s hitting him _now,_ at this time and place, right before he’s due to give one of the most important performances of his career, this is so unfair. After all these years, why is he still so dismally awful at controlling his emotions? Why is it striking him at this horribly crucial moment? And why is he so infuriatingly unable to _just fucking breathe?_

The metal chains around his chest squeeze even tighter. His next breath fights against him, and he has to choke down rasping dribbles of oxygen. It feels like a thousand-tonne brick is sitting on his chest. A cough ruptures from his mouth. Then another, then another, until it turns into a full-blown coughing fit.

Yuzu’s head spins as realization dawns on him. 

Wait. 

Something’s wrong. 

Seriously wrong. 

There’s no way the anxiety could be causing _this_ response in him. Another coughing fit wracks his body; he doubles over, bracing his arm down on the bench, and listens to himself gasping wretchedly for breath.

And that’s when he figures out that it’s not just nerves, not just anxiety.

He’s having an asthma attack.

_Oh no, no, no, no, no. _He tries to stand from the bench, but there’s not enough oxygen in his muscles for him to move. His knees buckle, and he falls heavily forwards, onto all fours. Stars spin in his vision.__

__Forget the thousand-tonne brick, there must be a herd of elephants sitting on his chest._ _

__Wheezes flow in and out of him shakily as he slides down onto his stomach on the floor, and turns so he’s lying on his slide. But the change in position doesn’t help him breathe any better. An invisible force constricts around his ribs, diaphragm, and stomach, prohibiting the entry of breath. He’s drowning. Drowning, with an abundance of air around him. No matter what he does, his lungs refuse to cooperate._ _

__“Help,” he coughs, but it barely has volume to it. The change room is empty, all other skaters having gone out either to perform or warm up. Nobody hears him._ _

__But someone somewhere, perhaps fate or luck, must be watching out for him.__

____

____

__Because just then, the change room door swings open. And there is Javi. Walking in with his skating bag, getting ready to change. Stopping short at the sight of Yuzu lying on the floor. Widening his eyes, dropping the bag, and rushing to the other boy’s side._ _

__“Yuzuru!”_ _

__All rivalry and complications fall away in the face of urgency. This is real; this is serious._ _

__Javi goes down on his knees. His hand grips Yuzu’s shoulder. Panic colours his voice. “Are you alright? What’s happening? Can you hear me?”_ _

__Gasping like a fish out of water, Yuzu manages to hiss: “Asthma.”_ _

__“Oh. Jesus. What can I do?”_ _

__In between the red flashing lights and alarm bells currently going off in his head, Yuzu recalls the last time Javi had offered to help. This time around, though, there’s only one option- and it’s definitely not what it was on that balcony. “Kikuchi-san,” Yuzu gasps._ _

__In a flash, Javi is standing up and running for the door. “Absolutely. I’ll go get him. I’ll be right back. Hang in there. I’ll be right back with you.”_ _

__It’s agonizing after Javi leaves. All Yuzu focuses on is breathing, trying to keep up with the momentum of the fast, shallow breaths that leave him dizzy. Sweat drips into his eyes, stinging.__

____

_Hang in there._

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo, a cliffhanger. Curious as to what's gonna happen? Stay tuned to the next chapter (in Javi's POV) to find out!


	16. The Final Group Arrives

It’s worrying Javi to death. 

After he’d fetched Kikuchi-san, the two of them, plus Brian and Tracy, had all rushed to the change room. But Yuzuru’s therapist goes in himself, insisting that Yuzuru would need space. Half out of his mind, Javi had wanted to argue, but one look from Brian was enough to subdue him. Now, the rest of the TCC representatives stand a few metres away from the closed door, uneasily silent.

“You can go back to warming up,” Brian begins, looking Javi carefully in the eyes.

Shaking his head, Javi stays put. There’s no way he’d be able to concentrate on anything except Yuzuru right now.

A few minutes later, Kikuchi-san comes out. He beckons at Tracy and Brian to follow him into the changeroom, but holds up a hand as Javi tries to go with them. _Not you_ , his eyes say. Gritting his teeth, Javi steps back. Before the door swings shut again, he catches a glimpse of Yuzu sitting on a bench inside, looking as a pale as a ghost. A glance at a clock on the wall tells Javi there’s two hours until Yuzu is to take the ice. 

Only two hours to recover from this. 

God, how is Yuzu going to take this? Javi’s heart lurches for him. At the same time, a wave of helplessness crashes into his chest. It’s almost unbearable that Yuzu is in there, suffering, while he’s out here, unable to do anything to help. Wringing his hands, Javi paces around the in hallway in an attempt to let out his anxious energy. 

After an eternity of agonizing waiting, the changeroom door opens. Tracy, Brian, and Kikuchi-san step out, surrounding a still-wobbly-looking Yuzuru. Thankfully, despite being the same pallid colour as the ice he’s going to be skating on in two hours, Yuzu seems relatively recovered. 

Javi lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It seems useless to ask ‘are you okay?’, so he says nothing. And continues to say nothing as the TCC team moves back into the warmup area. Many other skaters have also arrived, and cast curious glances at them as they return. Javi resists the urge to yell at them turn away, to shield Yuzu from their gazes. Instead, he grits his teeth and throws himself back into warming up. 

Yuzu doesn't thank him for getting help (not that Javi would ever ask for that), and seems intent on focussing on the task at hand. Still, the toll of the asthma attack is evident. Every time Yuzu has to pause to cough and gulp down lungfuls of air, every time his coaches and therapist exchange subtle, worried glances, Javi feels a dull ache in his chest, as if he's having trouble breathing, too. More than anything, he wishes he could fix it for Yuzu, help him like he tried to that night on the balcony.

But, of course, that will never happen. The reminder hits Javi with a sensation akin to that of falling down a deep, dark chasm. 

The truth is, even if he was able to help, Yuzu would never let him in like that. 

Never again.

\----------

Two hours pass by in a blink of the eye, and soon Javier and Yuzuru are being directed towards the rink. Javi catches a glimpse of his reflection as they walk by a glass trophy cabinet, and he’s got to admit, he looks sharp. But neither his classy black and white getup nor the melody of his Elvis program music repeating over and over in his head accurately express what he’s feeling inside at the moment. 

_Messy. Distracted._ The weight of his past four Worlds medals, two of them gold, lie heavily on his shoulders. _Afraid._ He has to beat his past self as well as the other competitors. The pressure pounds at his temples, bubbles beneath his skin, numbs his thoughts.

He hopes that it will not be what breaks him.

Yuzuru is due to start skating first in the final group. Javi’s glad to see that all traces of physical strain from the asthma attack have disappeared. There’s nothing but steely determination on the Japanese skater’s face, a chillingly cold fire. He doesn’t look at Javier or even so much as breathe in his direction. He’s in the zone.

_Am I in the zone?_

Javi tears his eyes away from Yuzu, stares down at his skates with vision that warbles in and out of focus. They’ve arrived in the rink, and are standing just beyond the field of vision of the audience, whose cheers for the last skater are deafening even as they die out. The ground seems to rumble, and the ice glints scintillatingly. 

The world suddenly seems extremely overwhelming.

 _Hey. Hey._ Javi shakes his head. _It’s okay. You’re going to do fine. You’re going to do great. You’ve got this._

The self-affirmations, though, ring a little hollow. He can’t quite pinpoint what exactly it is that he’s so insecure about, so afraid of- it’s probably a combination of a lot of things- but he can tell already it’s going to affect his skate. Everyone has _those_ kinds of days, and maybe today is going to be one of them for Javi. It’s with a heavy heart that he perceives this about himself, and in the end, he resolves to just go for it and do his best. It’s what he’s done all these past years, after all. Forged through difficult experiences and feelings. Went out there and gave it his all. And so far, more or less, it’s worked.

Just before the final six men- Yuzuru, Nathan, Boyang, Patrick, Shoma, and Javier- take the ice for their six minute warmup, Javi sweeps his gaze one final time across it all: the ice, the audience, the judges at their table, the kiss-and-cry. 

Blood pulsates furiously through a vessel in his neck, throbbing. Energy swirls about lividly beneath his skin, clamouring to be let out. His blades beg to kiss the ice. (They will get their way soon, and carve history while they're at it.)

He breathes in. Out. It smells of sweat and metal and cold. 

And just like that, he’s at home. 

This is where Javier Fernandez belongs. Where he's always belonged. This is his element. His domination. His mastery.

The sight and realization of it all is so huge he has to blink back his emotion. Nothing like this will ever occur again in his whole life, in all of history. So he’d better make the most of it.

And he will. 

He swear he will, he promises himself he will, he pledges to his country he will. 

He will.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome with big applause the skaters from the fourth group!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this installment of _Trading Crowns_. Terribly sorry about the slow updates, but school has kept me busy. ACI is extremely soon, though, and I'm super pumped to plunge headfirst back into the skating world!! (To hear/see me scream more about the 2017-18 season follow me on insta @yellingbaek- I changed my username a while back)
> 
> Please stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be Yuzu's FS (*gasps of excitement*)!!!!


	17. The Rise

_-Five minutes earlier-_

The adrenaline rush from the asthma attack has left Yuzu drained and exhausted, and he’s doing everything he can to combat it. Music flows into his ears through his favourite pair of earbuds. He takes a sip of amino vital. Beyond him, the frigid air of the ice rink clashes against the heated shouts of the fans in the audience, creating a cyclone of energy. It’s this energy that Yuzu tries to feed off of as he shakes out his limbs, lightly stretching his muscles one last time. 

As he does this, he’s keenly aware of Javier’s eyes on him. 

Once upon a time, he would’ve been flattered. Blushing. 

Another time, irritated. Vexed. Flustered.

But now, he just doesn’t know what to feel. 

Javi had pretty much saved his life back there in the changeroom. It’s all a bit of a blur for Yuzu- there’s something about not having enough oxygen in your body that does something to your memory, you know?- but he remembers enough. 

The way Javi’s eyes had widened in terror, the way he’d called Yuzu’s name. His hand gripping Yuzu’s shoulder so tightly it would’ve hurt if Yuzu had been able to feel anything other than the suffocation. The transparent panic and concern in his voice.

_Hang in there._

Yuzu turns up the volume of his music just as the song changes- and then comes to a dead stop. 

He’d thought he’d removed this song. _This_ song. What he’s started to call _their_ song.

Instantly, it brings him back to Boston, a year ago. The best and worst of times. A horrible injury had threatened to end his career. It had stolen his gold medal.

Now, a year later, one key thing has changed: but his feelings for Javi, not an injury, is what stands between him and the gold.

Yuzu casts a glance at Javi as if he’s afraid that the Spaniard can somehow hear the music, too. But Javier’s busy staring down at the ground. Yuzu frowns. Now that he’s getting a closer look at Javi, here’s something about the other skater that seems off somehow. Distressed. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow already, though his skate hasn’t started yet. 

Yuzu knows these signs. Javi’s hunched shoulders and uneven rising and falling of his chest may look to just be the usual nerves to any casual onlooker, but Yuzuru knows better. 

He knows _him_ better.

He knows Javi, with his big brown eyes and curly dark hair and sharp, strong jaw. Javi, the first one who’d befriended him at TCC, despite the language barrier. The one who’s been his competitor and companion through years and years of competitions, never failing to give words of encouragement, claps on the back, and heartfelt congratulations. Javi, whose smile is bright enough to fill an entire room, and whose laughter is loud enough to fill an entire ice rink. Javi, with his hands and voice and lips that could be as gentle and warm as sunshine or as passionate and powerful as a tempest. Javi, who snores loudly when he sleeps, and makes jokes when he falls on the ice. Who loves to talk about his family, and can cook a mean paella, and sometimes does pigtails and braids for little girls at the Cricket Club when they ask him to (and is surprisingly good at it). Who is full of endearing little details and idiosyncrasies: he’s the opposite of a morning person, and likes his coffee black, and prefers cats over dogs, and always ties up his left skate before the right, and proved to be hopeless at Monster Hunter when Yuzu tried to teach him, but is a regular pro at Mario Kart, and has a formidable stubborn, competitive fire hidden beneath his cheerful manner. 

Javier Fernandez: a good man, a good soul. The best friend and training partner anyone could ask for. So very giving and selfless in his kindness, his goodness.

Yeah, Yuzuru knows him. Maybe a little too well. A little too intimately.

But right now, seeing Javi like this, and knowing deep down that _he’s_ the reason why he’s like this, Yuzu doesn’t know what he should do. All he knows is that his heart feels strange, that his brain is quickly working to suppress it, and that he is _tired_. Tired, tired, tired. Of all the constant inner turmoil. Of treating Javi like this when the other boy’s never been anything but wonderful and kind and understanding. Of pretending to be someone’s he’s not.

Because he’s not like this. He’s not. 

“This way, please.” A rinkside volunteer interrupts his thoughts, directing the final six men to the boards. 

It’s almost time. 

Yuzu takes out his earbuds; the song dies away. A new rush of adrenaline fills him from head to toe. Lungs, getting used to working normally again, pump air in time to his beating heart. 

And that’s when it happens. That’s when he finally realizes that it’s not his feelings for Javier that stand between him and the gold.

_Oh._

Finally, finally, it comes to him: the only preventing Yuzuru Hanyu from getting what he wants is _himself_.

The sudden realization floods him, shaking him to the core. Clarity. 

He makes a decision, then and there. 

After this is finished, so is he. 

The lies, the pretending, the wounding, the repressing- it all stops here. It stops in Helsinki. He can’t- won’t- do this any longer, not to himself, not to Javi. The dam inside of him is crumbling apart already from this epiphany; he can feel it. 

This time, he will let it flood.

Because if this is the cost of gold, Yuzu would rather choose what’s priceless.

_Love._

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome with big applause the skaters from the fourth group!”

And now, emotions momentarily conquered, he turns to the next mountain to climb.

Didn’t think Yuzuru Hanyu had forgotten about the gold medal, did you?

\----------

He is the first to step on the ice. 

He gives it a quick brush of his fingers, passes his skate guards to Brian, and then is off, broadly stroking to centre rink. The other five men follow behind him, and he thinks to himself without a hint of remorse, _and that is how it is going to be_.

When they call his name, he cherishes each and every cheer and clap that comes from the audience. The sound flows through him, buoying him, filling him with power. With clear and determined eyes, he regards the audience. His arms uplift. Somewhere, something in the universe clicks into place. Nothing in him wavers as he spins to greet the other side and dips his head.

_Thank you._

It has been many years since he was naive enough to take this kind of support for granted. What concerns him now is how he will pay back all those who have so graciously expended their energies on him. How he will express all the gratitude, all the greatness, all the force of the thousands of people who have filled him so full of strength that he is near overflowing.

The six minute warmup starts, and the countdown to history being made begins.

A stumble on a triple axel in the warmup serves as an anchor for him, a reminder to keep watch for his technical side. _Don’t get too compliant, now,_ the ice warns. _Stay alert_. He thanks it silently for the reminder. 

There’s still a subdued burn in his chest from the asthma attack, and he doesn’t feel nearly as light and effortless as he does on his best days, but today he has something special that he’s never really had before. 

A conviction. A belief. A singular, all-consuming, all-encompassing mission.

Today, he _needs_ to win.

Ages before his name is called, he gets to the boards- no more careless accidental points lost like in his short program. Brian and Tracy speak to him slowly and with emphasis, reminding him of what to focus on and giving encouragement. They know it matters more what energy he feels from them than what he hears.

“You can leave it all out there,” Tracy says at one point. She doesn’t elaborate on this, and she doesn’t have to. 

Yuzuru nods, understanding what she means perfectly. He intends to do exactly that.

The arena gradually quiets. The other five skaters leave the rink one by one. A collective held anticipatory breath petrifies the arena.

It’s time.

A handshake with Brian. A squeeze for Pooh. Then, push off. It’s a heady blur of ice, audience, judges, and cameras as he glides to centre rink. Anticipatory cheers alight when he moves and a sea of red and white flags rise throughout the arena. It seems the world has tuned in to Helsinki tonight.

“Representing Japan, Yuzuru Hanyu!”

A few seconds to stabilize his body axis. To fill his lungs. To feel the moment. 

And he’s ready. The time is here, it’s now, it’s his. 

He’s ready.

_Okay._

Hope and Legacy begins.

The piano paints its tranquil melody, and he paints along with it. Slowly, steadily, rhythmically, fluidly.

Then, out of nowhere at all, a quad loop. Blades scrape against the ice, lift off, and land back down steadily, with a smooth trailing edge. 

_Good._

The piano beats with his heart, with his body, guiding him and the gazes of the audience members along. A quad salchow rotates out like nothing. Speed is the essence of the hour, smooth and subversive.

Following are spins that are even more flawless, positions and speed adjusted to the texture, rhythm, and pitch of the music. For a split second as he goes into Biellmann position, Yuzu gets a flashback of his earlier days. All the countless Biellmanns he did, all the programs, all the practice, the blood and sweat and tears, that have gotten him to this point. 

If only past him could see him now.

His movements are precise, yet sweeping and expressive. As the cello teases out a wistful melody, Yuzuru feels like he is planting stars in the sky. His gaze travels down to his fingertips, and releases there. Up and out, feelings and thoughts silently evaporating like mist into the air. 

Adrenaline replaces exhaustion, swiftly. On good days, sometimes his body feels like a well-oiled machine, but today, it’s even more than that; his body feels like it was made to do exactly this. The blades striking the ice grow sure. The legs and torso and arms steady with each new movement. And his mind is completely immersed in the completeness of what he knows can- and will- do. This ice was not built for him to skate on- no, rather, he was built to skate on this ice. Each look, each graceful sway of his limbs, is a love letter. To the ice, to the audience, to all those who have helped him get this far, to the art of figure skating itself.

_This is who I am. This is what I want to give._

Arms are lowered. Breath is taken. The triple flip comes out smooth as butter, sandwiched by twizzles. He starts to feel now that this performance is turning into something special. Each jump comes perfectly, not a hair of movement out of place. The music ripples like mountain wind. He holds what feels like his heart is his hands, clutches it close, and then lets go, spreading his arms. 

Enough doubt. Enough failure. There is nothing but the music and his mission. 

And just like that, gathering speed and momentum, he lands the second quad salchow. It’s spotless. Perfect. Chased by an equally splendid triple toe.

Exhilaration bursts to life, thrumming through his veins. _Finally._ The audience positively thunders, causing something not unlike a small earthquake.

As the program begins its transformation from exquisite and vulnerable, like dew trembling on leaves, into powerful and grim, his body kicks into drive. If Hope and Legacy is a reflection of who Yuzuru Hanyu is, this is the fire inside of him. The relentless warrior. The diamond; breathtakingly beautiful and hard enough to cut. Not only surviving, but thriving under pressure.

The music drives to a climactic moment. Riding fate like a river, Yuzu takes a breath, rallies his speed and power, and then-

The last quad, a toe loop, shows itself to be reliable as ever. His toe pick softly strikes the ice, and the four revolutions spin like silk. The ice greets him like an old friend as he flows out from it. A breath balloons in his lungs.

That’s four quads, all executed perfectly. 

He did it. 

_He did it._

There is fire in his chest and muscles, burning and aching, but a greater fire roars to life in his heart. He commands the rest of the jumps like the maestro of an orchestra. Triple axel and double toe with the arms aloft, he relishes. Second triple axel in the ever so beloved axel-loop-triple-salchow combination, he greets like a dear old friend.

A spin sequence later, it’s onto the choreographic sequence. The music builds to its uttermost climax. His body is positively blazing now, molten lead for blood, but he digs deep and finds the strength to give it his all as he dances alongside the audience. Their cheers light sparks in his bones and their exuberance gives his heart wings.

It’s a little bit of a momentous sensation. 

Delicate, yet powerful. Soft, yet compelling. A program full of contradictions, juxtapositions, highlighting the ethereal and elegant qualities permeating every floating and grounding note of music. It’s a winning combination. Blue swirls into green as Yuzuru Hanyu becomes the living, breathing embodiment of ever-dynamic nature: changing as the seasons pass, but retaining its integrity nonetheless. 

Every last soul in the arena is captivated. As the rivers and sky and trees and ice flow as one, all eyes are transfixed on one boy. And how could they not be? His skating makes ripples- the kind you can’t see, but feel deeper than anything. 

The kind that changes the world. 

_This._

This is the story Yuzuru has always wanted to tell.

And now he is telling it while reclaiming his world championship crown.

The last triple lutz is his golden ticket; he allows himself a fistpump of victory when it’s over. And then, it’s only the last spin sequence left. During it, he can barely hear the reverberating string music of the last bars of Hope and Legacy, the audience is so loud. Their frenetic cheering only heightens as the delicate piano theme returns, signifying the end of the program.

Fire burns cold and sure in Yuzuru’s veins as he finishes his spins, and points a finger skyward. The same icy blaze is alight in his eyes as he does his last rotation, faces the judges, and raises his arms to the heavens. 

The last note of music rings with finality. 

A statement has been made. A hope has been restored. A legacy has been set in stone.

Yuzuru Hanyu of Japan is triumphant, once again.

His arms remain in the air as cheers make waves in every corner of the earth, resounding with the song of victory.

_Come and catch me now._

There’s no question about it.

The absolute champion has returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you, Chapter 17 of _Trading Crowns_. I dedicate this passage to H &L Worlds 2017, and Chopin Ballade No. 1 Autumn Classic International 2017: your two current world records for highest senior men's free and short program scores. Both set by- who else?- Yuzuru Hanyu.
> 
> (Honestly though, I was livestreaming ACI last night and was SHOOKETH TO MY BONES to say the least. Like wow!!! Yes!!! Yuzu is here to slay us all!!!)
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading, liking, and commenting! Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be in Javi's POV.
> 
> (PS. Good luck to Yuzu for his debut of Seimei 2.0 tonight! I'm watching the livestream and I can't wait!)


	18. Sunrise

Javi’s free skate had been disappointing to say the least. As he sips champagne at the banquet, he reflects on how he had spent all the energy he had left trying to keep his face from crumpling.

God, he’d wanted it so bad. Despite everything going on with Yuzuru, Javi had always been dead-set on winning. What can he say? Champions hate to lose. But that is exactly what Javi did this Worlds, missing the podium despite having earned a hefty score of over four hundred. Countless people had approached him afterwards, shaking their heads in disbelief and pity and admiration, murmuring about how insanely competitive the sport has gotten. Javi had only smiled bitterly at their words, the sound of an anthem that was not Spain’s still ringing in his ears tauntingly.  
And then there was the one for whom that very anthem had played.

Yuzuru Hanyu.

Javi takes another sip. 

The way Yuzu had embraced him and held him tightly as he headed to the podium had done things to Javi that he was almost ashamed to admit to himself. He wonders if his surprise had shown in his eyes through the many cameras that had been filming the men’s singles victor. Javi, still dazed by his own skate, had felt the moment go by in a flash. Yuzuru’s arms around him, himself stroking Yuzu’s face and congratulating him wholeheartedly, their embrace for the second time.

The public had celebrated the hug between rinkmates as an ultimate show of sportsmanship. The old champion giving his blessings to the new one. The old king is dead, long live the king. It had been the most graceful trading of crowns.

And yet.

Nobody else could know what it had been like for Javi. He remembers choking back his tears of disappointment, tucking them away on a shelf in his mind for later, so that he could be in the moment and try to be happy for Yuzu. Javi knows, better than anyone, if there’s a single skater in the world who deserves the world title other than himself, it’s Yuzuru. There is no resentment between himself and his rinkmate, his best friend, his… 

Another sip. 

Javi checks his watch. It’s nearly eleven PM, and the banquet afterparty is still going strong. Tipsy, merry skaters- victors and runner-ups alike- have set out on the dance floor, jamming out to everyone’s favourite 90’s and 2000’s hit pop music. Clusters of people are gallivanting around, chattering happily to teammates and new friends; Javi spots Wakaba Higuchi and Evgenia Medvedeva taking selfies, and Deniss Vasiljevs and Boyang Jin playing some sort of game on their phones. A few stragglers who are not so keen to dance or socialize, like Javi, sit at tables, content in absorbing in the revelry of others.

It’s getting late. Javi checks his watch again, then stands up. He should go. The other skaters have been exceedingly kind, congratulating him despite his loss and going through all the right motions, so it’s no fault of theirs. He’s just exhausted to the bone.

Quietly, Javi slips out of the banquet hall and meanders to the front door of the venue, beyond the doors of which a crisp spring night in Helsinki is awaiting. He yawns, absently wondering if he might fall asleep while walking on the way back to the hotel

Then, a voice comes from behind him. “Javi.” 

He freezes. 

A finger taps him lightly on the shoulder. He recognizes that touch, that voice. Slowly, he turns around. 

“Yuzuru.”

And there Yuzu is, the man of the hour, of the competition, of the figure skating world. Staring at Javi with wide, unreadable eyes, his hands clasped tightly together. Javi’s heart clenches in a mixture of emotions as he takes the sight of him in. Yuzu never did have the most fortunate streak with tuxedo fittings, but Javi’s always envied how he looks amazing in anything.

Yuzu’s eyes flit from Javi’s face to the ground, then back up again. No trace of the triumphant air he’d borne the last time Javi had seen him, standing in the middle of the podium. It’s almost hard to believe that this is the same man. Javi opens his mouth, then closes it, his mind blank.

Quietly, Yuzu says, “Can we talk?”

* * *

Yuzu takes a deep breath, clenching his teeth to disguise how shaky he is. Out of everything he’s done in this life- the countless hours spent training, the terrifying days spent waiting for the aftermaths of the earthquake to cease back in 2012, competing and performing in front of thousands- this unnerves him more than almost anything. The future, Yuzu is all too keenly aware of, lies in his hands now. There are no coaches to berate him, no media to manipulate his words, no judges to cheat him. In the story of Yuzu’s life, this, right here, right now, with Javi, can only be written by him and him alone.

He’s thought about what he’s going to say a million times over, but the carefully rehearsed words escape him now. They wouldn't be genuine anyways. Nothing has or ever will prepare him for what he feels when he’s with Javi. He knows that now. Accepts it. It’s time he stopped thinking and just let himself feel.

So the words just spill out- and he lets them go where they will. 

“Remember Boston?”

Javi nods carefully, slightly tilting his head in that way that he does when he’s confused. Yuzu can almost see the thoughts running through his head: _Boston? The skating? The medals? Or…?_

Yuzu continues. “On the airplane. You held my hand.”

At this, Javi lets out a surprised laugh. Mirthless, a dry syllable resounding of nostalgia and bitterness. “I didn’t think you’d noticed. You were sleeping.”

“I noticed.” Yuzu stares down at the floor, feeling the tips of his ears turn pink. Where was he going with this? What does he want to say? “It was nice.”

An extended pause. There’s been an abundance of this lately, this awful distended stillness between the two of them. Yuzuru’s almost grown used to it, a fact which bothers him more than he likes to admit. It’s not that they have nothing to say to each other. At least, not from Yuzu’s perspective. Insecurity and self-doubt tell him that Javi really does have nothing to say to him, that Javi wants nothing to do with him at all. But Yuzu’s more than used to shutting down those voices inside his head; it’s second nature to him to be standing, petrified, eye to eye with his worst fears, and then to forge ahead anyways.

This is what he tells himself as he says, in a voice that seems too loud and too shaky and ricochets all around the room as if his chest is a loudspeaker: “Javi, I’m sorry.”

There it is. Finally, those three words. A white flag. Whiter than the ice they’ve shared, whiter than the knuckles of Yuzu’s tightly clasped hands. 

The silence between them lasts an eternity longer. Yuzu doesn’t let himself move a muscle. 

Then, he hears a sharp intake of breath. 

He looks up to see Javi staring straight at him with bright eyes. He can’t help it- he drinks in the sight of those eyes as if he hasn’t touched liquid in days and Javi’s gaze is the sweetest water. How he’s missed those eyes. Then, something changes imperceptibly in Javi’s stone-still expression: a waver in the corners of his lips, a tremor in his eyes. A ripple of spring breeze across a frozen lake. It gives Yuzu just enough courage to keep going. 

“I’m so sorry. For everything. For being so unfair to you. Not telling you what was going on. Shutting you out. I should never have done that.” Yuzu scans Javi’s face, searching desperately for a reaction. However well he knows Javi, he’s honestly not sure how the other boy will take this. He feels like all it’ll takes is one misspoken word, one misunderstanding, and he’ll lose Javi forever. When Javi says nothing, Yuzu keeps going. “I should’ve told you how I felt.”

Javi blinks.

“How I _feel_.”

It spreads across Javi’s face the way the sun rises. Slowly, hesitantly at first, breaking through the clouds and darkness. Then, radiant. Understanding. Quietly, Javi asks, “What do you feel?”

“I like you.” It’s the first time Yuzu’s said this aloud, and now that he has, he finds that he’s incredibly fond of how it sounds. The truth feels good to admit at last. “I like you. I like you. I like you a lot, Javier Fernandez.” 

Slowly, Javi shakes his head. 

Yuzu wants to know. He can already read it in Javi’s thoughts, in the earnest light of his brown eyes, but he wants to hear it out loud. “What?” he whispers.

Javi smiles- he does this instinctively, no matter the situation, and that makes him hard to read. Javi says, “This whole time I thought I’d been doing something wrong. I thought I’d been imagining things. There were times I thought I’d imagined what happened between us on that balcony that night, and imagined every moment before that. Tell me- that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? I didn’t just imagine it all. The airplane, you-”

Yuzu finds himself nodding and nodding and nodding. “You didn’t imagine it. Any of it. Unless…”

Javi’s head whips up.

“Unless I’m just imagining it, too.” 

Letting out something in between a scoff and a laugh, Javi shakes his head again. For a second, Yuzu stops breathing, thinking he’s lost him for sure now. But then, Javi looks up and his eyes are glowing and he’s smiling, the beginnings of that big, genuine grin that Yuzu hasn’t seen in what feels like forever. 

And like the moon beaming through parting clouds, Yuzu smiles back in relief. For the first time in a year, he feels a weight lifting off his shoulders. For the first time in a year, he lets himself dream of something truly golden.

 

* * *

Their hotel hallway is pitch black when they reach Javi’s floor- somebody must’ve forgotten to turn on the lights. But no matter. Javi’s not afraid of falling anymore. Not when he’s holding Yuzuru’s hand.

Javi knows Yuzu, knows him better than the back of his own hand, knows when he’s upset or angry or happy or disappointed or extremely, extremely, to the very core of him, sorry. Three little words were all it had taken for him to melt. _”Javi, I’m sorry.”_

_I’m sorry, too._

How could Javi not forgive him? 

It’s always been his philosophy to be generous, with praise, smiles, support. Forgiveness. Love. Javier Fernandez is not a man of holding back when it comes to these things. Nothing that has happened between Boston and Helsinki has changed that about him, and he’s determined to keep it so. 

When it seems the entire world has turned on you, you don’t become twice as difficult in order to fight back. In and of itself, softness is the ultimate strength. By God, is it hard sometimes, but being able to trust and forgive after being betrayed and shut out is, in Javi’s mind, one of the bravest things anyone can do. It’s like skating: you may fall and get injured, but you get back up again and keep skating, even knowing the risk that you might get hurt again, because it’s worth it. You love the ice, no matter what. 

Javi knows it now. He loves Yuzuru, no matter what. Because he’s worth it. Because he’s not perfect and that means he’ll hurt Javi again someday, but Javi’s willing to weather his storms because he knows the sunshine that follows is always enough. Because that’s what you do for someone you love like that.

 _Soñador_ , Javi’s mom likes to call him. Dreamer. 

He has dreamed of this love for a long time.

Yuzu’s fingers are warm intertwined with his. They speak in soft whispers, confessing bits and pieces to one another here and there as they walk down the dark hallway. It’s as if a terrible dry spell has finally been broken, and now the monsoon is here. Voices and words drum harmonically like raindrops against glass, all the way to Javi’s room. Each syllable a fragment of the story that has caused them so much pain and yet has brought them here, in this moment, together. In the dark, it seems that much more surreal, as if the switching on of a lamp could make this delicate dream of a moment dissipate in a second.

Javi closes the door gently after they enter his room. When he turns around, he finds himself face to face with Yuzu. At the sudden closeness, Javi’s heart thuds heavily against his ribs. The other boy’s eyes search his face, heavy with something that could just resemble yearning. But he says nothing, makes no move. Tension runs ice-hot through Javi’s veins, and for a moment he feels like a newcomer at love all over again, overrun with emotions and sensations. Can Yuzu hear how nervous he is? Can he read how much Javi wants him? And why isn’t he saying anything? For a breathless minute, they’re locked in a staring contest, neither moving, neither uttering a word. 

Yuzu’s the first to lose, for once, his eyes flitting away to focus on the floor. His body goes stiff, his hand in Javi’s motionless.

Suddenly, Javi gets it.

Yuzu doesn’t want to do the same thing as last time on the balcony. Doesn’t want to repeat what he perceives as having been a mistake. He’s afraid to make the first move.

So Javi does it for him. He squeezes Yuzu’s hand, then puts his other hand on the other boy’s cheek tenderly. His heart skips a beat as Yuzuru’s breath catches noticeably in his throat. 

“It’s okay,” Javi murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” Yuzuru whispers, still looking down.

Javi reaches forwards, takes tilts Yuzu’s chin so they’re eye to eye. “ _Cariño_.”

“Can you forgive me?” The other boy whispers.

“Of course I forgive you. I will always forgive you. I- ”

_I love you._

But that last sentence is lost in the closing distance between them, because then Javi leans in, closes his eyes, and finally kisses the boy of his dreams.

* * *

Yuzu slides onto the bed, wriggling around until he’s comfortably seated. He puts his legs around Javier’s waist, straddling him. Slowly, he rests his head on the other boy’s shoulder. Javi holds him close, pressing his hands against Yuzu’s shoulder blades, then traces patterns lightly across the skin of his back. Constellations bloom from his careful fingertips. Yuzu closes his eyes, melts into Javi’s touch. They breathe together as one. Not saying anything, because they don’t have to. Their togetherness comes so naturally, it feels like every star in the universe has aligned just for them. 

Darkness shrouds them, and all is quiet. Serene. Safe.

* * *

When Javi wakes up, Yuzuru is still asleep, lying against his chest. Watery morning sunlight streams in sheets through the blinds, casting perfect facets of light onto Yuzu’s face. Javi looks down at the other boy, admiring the way his eyelashes flutter as he dreams, and feeling the deep, steady pulses of his breathing through the places where where their skin touches. His heart just about melts when Yuzu softly murmurs something in his sleep and turns around, burrowing closer. 

Five years has been worth the wait. Five years for them to get to their last Worlds competition together, five years of camaraderie, friendship... and something more.

Gently, Javi slides his arm around Yuzu and holds him closer. In that beautiful, fleeting pocket of a moment, he knows one thing to be absolute truth: this year, both of them have won the ultimate prize.

****

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God.
> 
> WE FINALLY MADE IT!
> 
> That's it, guys, that's the end of the journey of Trading Crowns!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's read this work, who's left kudos and comments and feedback, I appreciate it more than I can ever express. I'm so sorry for having taken a gazillion years to finally update, but I hope that this ending makes up for it. Angst is great, but who isn't a sucker for happy endings, right? I love these two too much to give them anything less :)
> 
> HUGE, HUGE CONGRATULATIONS TO YUZU AND JAVI (AND SHOMA!!) FOR THEIR OLYMPIC MEDALS. It made me so incredibly proud and emotional to see them together on a podium again after so long, and what a podium it was to share. Indelible history has been made, and I feel so fortunate to have witnessed it and been a part of it in some small way, and to have done so with you all, the incredible figure skating/Fanyu fandom.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for having stuck with Trading Crowns. I hope you've cried, laughed, and enjoyed. Art is made of stories, and the story of Yuzu and Javi has certainly been an inspirational one. And the best part is, it will never truly end.
> 
> Much love, and until next time,
> 
> -Y


End file.
